Some mornings the only thing that gets me up is the concept of a routine. I lay in bed covered in warm sheets wrapped around my boyfriend and wonder why I would ever want to leave. What could possibly coax me from the warmth and the comfort and the absolute bliss.
It’s not fair, I’ll tell myself.
Just this once, just this once I’ll lay.
I deserve to lay like this, I’ll tell myself.
So I curl back up and take a big breath of satisfaction. I’ve made an adult decision to stay in bed today. And while I lay there in the warmth and feel all the muscles in my body relax back into the mattress I know somewhere inside of me that I shouldn’t be so comfortable.
I’ve got to get up, I’ve got to get moving.
Everything around me is telling me it’s morning. The sun is breaking through the blinds and the ceiling fan is kicking light off the walls. My alarm has been on snooze twice already and I’m confounded as to how I manage to close my eyes and dream in those ten minutes between buzzes.
I feel rested but I want more, like a drug, like an addiction. I curl myself back into it like I’m wounded.
Some mornings the only thing that gets me up is the concept of a routine. Another drug. Another twisted perception of whats real. I get up because I know I can make coffee. I try to convince myself that I want the coffee more than I want to be curled up in bed.
The coffee is warm Lorelei, and deep roasted, rich and smooth. The whole place will smell like coffee. The grounds will seep into your skin. You’ll be so awake, you’ll be so ready, you’ll have never been so alert.
And then I close my eyes.
I get up because I know I can check my email. I’ll sip my coffee in the big round mug and read my email. I’ll have so much email and I’ll feel so important. That big red number over my mail icon. You have twenty three new messages. You have forty two new messages. People need your attention.
Get out of bed.
Sometimes despite this routine I can’t help but lay just a few moments longer. I find myself twisted. Entangled in the sheets. Halfway down the bed and upside down. I think it’s with this contemplation that I end up this way.
I have a dream about a friend of mine. He’s naked and he’s chasing me around my house. Eventually I end up cornered in the bathroom and he’s on top of me and I keep screaming no but he doesn’t stop. Nothing happens and we’re all laughing. I sit on the couch between my naked friend and a bunch of my other friends, all wearing clothes. That’s all I remember and then I wake up.
I don’t know why I don’t get out of bed now, afraid to close my eyes again, to slide into some sort of twisted lucid dreaming. It’s far too easy these days, I’ve conditioned myself.
So many mornings, I just can’t get up. My bones have melded into the frame. I think I’ve become apart of the pillow top. Sometimes I forget I’m in bed, and I say I’m tired. Then I close my eyes and I sleep. And then I wake up. And I want to sleep some more.