You wake up, you check the time (it’s 10:03). Ergh. One more day and then it’s back to work.
Fuck it, I’m staying in bed.
*on goes Emmerdale Omnibus*
Sunday blues. Ring a bell?
It’s very easy to stay in bed until you feel you’re going to wet yourself.
Truthfully, getting out of bed (no matter the day) is physically one of the hardest things I have to do.
I’ve had all the relevant blood checks and the GP assures me that all is fine with all the necessary vitamins and iron.
My body, quite simply, would rather stay in bed and sleep. I mean, I don’t blame it (her?).
That being said, I did get out of bed this week to catch-up with some family who’re visiting.
The sun was shining bright in Kent and we drove down to the coast.
France was in touching distance.
I felt free.
My mind stopped thinking.
Did I leave the iron on? What am I going to make for lunch tomorrow? What sheets should I use to change the bed?
I took in the sea, I soaked the sun and I forgot that it was Sunday.
Taking myself away from the Big Smoke always works wonders for my mind.
The 24/7 life might not be for me anymore…but that’s a whole other stress. I’ll try and hold off on that one until later this week. It’s only Monday after all.