Alcohol is your yoga, baby

I didn't actually eat Quisp today.
I have five boxes left and I'm going to make them last.

Well, I thought I'd give you guys a couple of days rest after that last post. Nothing like slicing open one's chest for the world, right?

(utter lack of transition) I've been known to declare specific days as "days off." This never works and the eye rolling skills demonstrated by MathMan aren't for nothing. I deserve every roll of his root beer eyes, every knowing smirk. I have shown time and again that I am incapable of taking it easy.

So today I aimed to prove him and me wrong. I went into Sunday with a vengeance. I slept until 10a.m. It's 4:52 p.m. and I'm still in my pajamas and have done the bare minimum of ablutions aka brushing my teeth.

All this doing nothing has turned me into an eating machine. Hershey's kisses. Leftover honey chicken from the Dragon Garden. Welch's fruit snacks (made with real fruit), even real fruit - the fresh pineapple I crave with bananas, raspberries, and blackberries. Those amazing Frosted miniwheats with the mixed berry goo in the middle. Coffee. I could use some more coffee. Beer. I promised to make something for dinner, but I might renege on that because I'm just enjoying this break from the tedium far too much. Let them eat cereal! Let them eat Hostess cupcakes! Let them eat raw spaghetti! I don't care. There's thawed ground beef. They can get creative as far as I'm concerned. They will, too.

Day off. Me. Ass in chair, on bed, rolling around in the metaphorical clover with my honey.

I put the tray of my food debris outside the door like room service, but I'm afraid to open the door again to see if the children understood what that meant. They're not too smart when it comes to householdish things and they've rarely spent time in hotels with something as luxurious as room service so I doubt it. Yes, I know that's my fault for being too indulgent and doing too much for them. You don't have to tell me again.

I don't want to open the door because I know that I'll get pulled by the gravity of all that stuff I normally do that I'm not doing today as I stay in the sunny haven of the bedroom with a stack of books including The Key which you must read, the Atlanta Constitutional Journal with its seriously bizarre ad on the back page of the Jobs (ha, that's a laugh) section, the supersexy MathMan, naked photos of Johnny Galecki (yes, I looked them up when I found out they existed) a drawer full of candy and fruit snacks and the bathroom that completes the suite. Oh, and the dvds of Big Bang Theory and Midsomer Murders for when I must give my eyes a rest from all that reading.

I told you, I'm taking the day off! I don't want to get swept away by the have to stuff. Not today.

See, if I step out that door, I'll end up with a dishcloth in my hand or scooping the litter box again or being held hostage by cats who are always hungry or picking up the trail of crap left all over the house by my less than perfect children whose beds, I'm sure, remain unmade and who are wondering if their father and I have lost our minds because, like me, MathMan has stayed cozily and safely behind closed doors except for when he ventured out for some cold water from the fridge. Which reminds me, we could use a small refrigerator, a coffee maker and a microwave in here and then I would never have to leave this room.

I could get used to this just hanging out idea. It's been too long.

Thanks to all of you for the comments on that last post. I got one taker on the concept. Please visit Dale at his Place of Passion. He posted about where he writes and, I must tell you, it's beautiful, tidy, and tastefully-decorated. Thank you, Dale, for writing your great piece and showing us your writing place. If I ever visit, I won't be able to pee while you write.

I hope you're enjoying a day off, too. After listening to a TV conversation about how hard Americans work themselves (yes, even we Americans without paid jobs), I've decided to embrace the idea that down time is necessary to good health. Maybe I really can become the type of person who figures she'll look back on life and be glad for the laughs, the love and the experiences instead of how neat and tidy her house was. It's an aspiration, you know?