I slept in.
When E suggested this idea to me last night—to go to bed without setting an alarm clock—I’d looked at him in confusion. What, like sleep IN? I’d asked.
Yes, he’d said. Sleep in!
The thought balloon above my head looked like this:
But still I made a good effort. I did not set the alarm. I went to sleep and at one point I woke up around 8am (forgive me, I checked my email), but then I still climbed back into bed and slept some more. It is now 12:34 pm. I feel like I’ve been naughty. The truth is, though, that I didn’t have anything waiting for me today. No freelance projects to work on. No deadlines. No set plans. Nothing of concern, really, except the bed. I don’t remember my dreams, unfortunately. I remember drifting in and out, aware that I was trying to keep myself asleep and that it was somewhat of a farce, because I wasn’t really asleep, but that it could seem that way if I kept my eyes closed. Then I did sleep some more, so I guess I tricked even myself.
And how does it feel to have slept “in” as they call it?
My head feels a little more mushy than usual. And I keep thinking about coffee. Other than that, I wonder if the experience could have been better served by instead getting up waaaaaay earlier than usual and just reading a good book.