When I arrived in the office bright and early on Monday morning, I was not feeling bright and early and immediately looked up to see how many days leave I had available that weren't already earmarked for other things.
The answer was 1.5 days, which is now down to .5 days.
Thursday may seem an odd choice for a day off, I've had many ask me why I didn't take Friday and make a long weekend of it, but I had meetings booked and I was too lazy to deal with the hassle of rescheduling. So Thursday it was.
When my darling woke up early this morning and crawled out of bed, I had the luxury of half waking and then turning over and going back to sleep.
When my darling turned on the light in order to shave his facial hair, I kept my eyes closed and pretended that it wasn't morning.
When my darling kissed me goodbye I grunted, and then fell asleep again before I heard his car pull out of the driveway.
Ah, blessed sleep. I dream of sleeping.
In fact, I dreamt of sleeping-in until 3.13pm.
A highly specific time that has no known relevance to me whatsoever.
I ran around in a panic. I couldn't believe that I'd slept the entire day away. A day I'd earned by my sweat, and tears, and sheer hard work over hours and hours and hours.
And there was a whole lot of washing that needed to be folded for some reason. I don't know. I don't direct these productions, they merely screen themselves inside my brain.
When I woke up in a state of fear and regret it was 7.14am. A much better time to wake up.
If it'd been the weekend I would've dozed on and off for another half hour or so.
I kept my eyes open as wide as I could and jumped out of bed.
I'd already wasted one day off. I wasn't repeating that mistake.