Bed Bound

I am bed bound. Some days I wake up and I lie in my sheets formulating what I could and what I should do. I create hypothetical chains of events so detailed I feel like they have actually happened. They haven’t because I am trapped on my mattress. Procrastination, once it sets in, leaves me rigor mortis flexible and can last till well past sunset. 

Some days are post procrastination days. The guilt pumps through my veins like a papal adrenaline and I savagely rip through tasks ensuring each is ticked off an ethereal list. They may not be done well or thoroughly but my list is completed and my mea culpa conscience salved. I head for my bed to await the sleep of the ticked list righteous. 

I peak and trough like a wild mountain pig. My life isn’t lived it is clung to and survived. Precarious feels like home and a rollercoaster would be a busman’s holiday. My tightrope walking skills, afflicted by an inate inability to balance, mean I often plummet. Sadly in my circus there’s rarely a passing acrobat to trapeze me to safety. 

Today is a rare day. I woke up and instantly got up. I showered before I did anything. I didn’t catch up on my word games, my writing, my emails or friends that I no longer see on FaceBook. I didn’t debate breakfast or ponder lunch. I didn’t meander through endlessly negotiated  ‘just one more cup of tea then I will’ moments. My diem was carpéd.  As a result I feel vindicated. I am a champion. I am a teacher whose books are marked and whose lessons are planned. Today I’m not sinking and I’m not falling, I am flying through the air and I feel amazing. By the end of this momentous  day I’ll be exhausted and no doubt by nine I’ll be thinking about sleep and be bed bound. 

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