Tuesday, February 9, 2016

The hours

At 5 pm I climbed back under the covers, having not set foot outside my front door all day. I have work to do, but it is intermittent. I realize I really like when I'm staring down the barrel of deadlines and chained to the blue screen. I'm not forced to decide how else to spend the hours. Today, after sending back 20 revision notes on the galley of my book, there was nothing else pressing to do. I ended up wasting the entire day, watching the latest episode of Top Chef, surfing New Hampshire primary returns, laconically adding a few pieces to the half-done jigsaw puzzle on the dining table. Then, under the covers. I lay there trying to decide if I was depressed. I decided that I wasn't, that my bed was simply the warmest and coziest place in the house. There's snow on the ground outside, and a draft at the windows, and my thoughts have too much space to roam. My man just came home from work. I greeted him unapologetically from under the comforter, Kindle in my hand. It's Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday. On this night, they do a pancake dinner in the church hall. The men do the cooking. I thought I might go with him and mingle. But the bed cradled me.

6 comments:

  1. Ah- I have a good two hours before I can even think about going to bed but it is already calling me with such sweet voices.
    Bed is sometimes simply the nicest place to be.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love my bed. It is the only place in the world free from anxiety and sadness. But the second my feet hit the floor...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ditto! Nothing like a warm bed when the snow falls. Add a good book and I'm in heaven.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ahh the coziness of a warm bed. Sometimes it's just the place to be.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Even in 86 degree weather in Los Angeles, I love my bed!!

    ReplyDelete
  6. It's the season for hibernation. At the end of the day we're warm-blooded creatures in a cold environment, and you were simply obeying our instincts!

    ReplyDelete