On the Virtues of Sleeping In

Six graduate level writing assignments await my studied eye today, so in order to ready myself to hack others' writing to pieces I figured I'd do a bit of my own first.  I rise today in full-throated support of not rising; that is, in sleeping in.  It is something I do only rarely, but having done so this morning I am flush with praise for the practice and hope for its continuing presence in my life.

I am an early riser.  Partially by choice and partially as a result of geography, I tend to get up pretty early each day, including Saturday and Sunday.  Additionally, having made a career choice that virtually guarantees that I always have work to do and that the level of work cannot possibly be confined to eight hour days, I find myself up early even when I don't have long commutes to make, simply to have enough time to get the work done.

This morning was different, and it involved a conscious choice.  You see Kitten #2 is an accomplished equestrienne, and she has a very,very important show today. Her performance will determine if she makes the Washington International Horse Show, something that has been her aim for about two years now.  Her determination and hard work has been something to watch, and I am truly proud of her for the way she has approached this goal.  The show is so important that she asked that I (and her grandmother) not come to it, and is only allowing her mother to attend as a means of transportation to and from.  I go to many of her shows, and I have been witness to the nervousness and tension that goes along with this pursuit--and so I took my leave with aplomb.

The show necessitated an early wake up (early for Kittens) of 0500.  When the alarm went off, I laid there and considered my options.  I could grab my mask and earplugs and roll over and go back to sleep, or I could get up, make them breakfast, and see them off with hugs and best wishes of support.  You have no idea how attractive the former option was, especially considering how often I am up at 0500 as it is.  I did in fact, grab the mask and earplugs, and put both on whilst the Kitten pursued her toilette behind closed door, an important detail as she did not SEE me make this commitment to sloth and self-love.  I laid there for a minute or two and reconsidered my decision.  IF Kitten #2 makes the big show in DC, I will not be able to be there because I am flying to California.  I had already been informed that my presence at THAT show was absolutely desired, and I earned some raised eyebrows at missing yet another seminal event.  Given these circumstances, my laying in bed might be viewed with some scorn.

Because higher order thought processes had begun--something that always dooms my ability to sleep-- I bounded out of bed and asked the Kitten if I could make her and her spawn some eggs before they left.  I immediately entered faux husband and faux father of the year status with this simple act.  "You don't have to" she said, and while I agreed that I did not HAVE to, I did not feel completely free not to, at least while confined to my own guilty conscience.  And so, I alighted to the kitchen, engaged in the standard feeding rituals with the two dogs who apparently had grown to miss me with great feeling in the previous six hours, and made a pan of scrambled eggs.  When Kitten #2 appeared, she thanked me for the "good luck flowers" I set in her room yesterday (I'm no dummy) and began to devour her eggs.  They were not around more than ten minutes before it was time to load up and move out, and so I saw them off with a clear starry sky and a crescent moon overhead.

And then went back to bed.  And sprawled out decadently.  And put my mask on so that the approach of day would go unnoticed.  And put ear plugs in so that whatever noise the dogs might make would be ignored.

I laid there remembering the DVD-encased advice of some guru I had once heard who said, "if you think deeply about your breathing, no other thought can enter your mind.'  This always works for me, and so that is what I did.  And three and a half hours later, I woke up.  Dazed, but satisfied.  Completely refreshed.  Actually, felling accomplished, as if I had stolen something of great value from some kind of protective giant, or dragon.

Was this theft a responsible act? No.  Indeed not.  I have a ton of work to do.  I am scheduled to go sit in the local viewing area for the Met Opera and enjoy "Le Nozze di Figaro".  The Kitten has been patiently waiting for me to run more cat 6 cable to variously inaccessible parts of the house. But none of this matters to me right now, as I am well-rested and self-satisfied.