I need an air pump for my soul. Breakfast in bed…after the tummy ache I’ve had for a few days goes away. A magnet to draw me toward my office. A spare 36 hours. Rose-colored glasses. A smile. A winning lottery ticket.
This is just a complementary list. I already have a lot of cool stuff. A delicious man that loves me. Pets that seem to like me even though I won’t feed them 8 times a day. Income. Lots of wacky good times. Three borrowed children that have enlightened me on many important subjects (SPONGEBOB DOES NOT HAVE A BROTHER!) and entertained me with their kid-logic. An eccentric family held together by a lot of love. Loyal friends who like me the way I am. The basics: food, shelter, etc. Amazing projects and plans unfurling more beautifully than expected and far ahead of schedule.
But somehow, I just can’t seem to drag myself out of bed this morning. Every endurance race has its unbearable moments I suppose. This is one of those moments…where my accomplishments are substantial enough to warrant pride, but not completion. Where you’ve hit a hill at mile 19 and think you might die.
Prior experience tells me this is not so. I won’t die. I have pushed myself past this point enough times to know that, at least. But I just want to climb back in bed. Oh wait, I haven’t left the bed yet…ha….