What is the purpose of doing nothing when you still got your mind wandering off elsewhere?
I’ve asked myself this question a billlion times this week as I tried waking up late in the morning. No matter what I do, I end up waking in the middle of the morning with my cat, Scared, purring on my side. I’ve tried alarm clocks but still I end up waking an hour ahead. As I watch the sun rise, I plan my day ahead.
Cook breakfast, feed the dogs, wash the plates, iron the laundry, sit and watch TV, finish this week’s book (this week’s offering: Martha Grimes’ Richard Jury novel, The Deer Leap) or at least as three to four chapters, fall into a deep slumber. Or whadyacallit? Oh yeah, take a nap. Upon waking up, take a bath, cook lunch, eat, and feed the dogs. Watch a DVD or just stare at the wall. You’ve been longing all of these for a long, long time now.
Yes. Staring at the wall is such a swell chore. It’s sort of like a therapy, too. But what does one have to do though when they don’t do anything at all? All the time in the world lies in seconds, instead of the occasional hours.
I guess it sounds argumentally bad, but would it be bad if I told you that I want to stay at home, no work or school to bother about, only for about a month? Would it be bad to go thinking about things and taking these lightly?
It sure sounds bad. I think. But why should I, or anybody, care about what other people should say? Can these people give me good food, nice clothes, a comforting home? I don’t think so.
So I guess, as absolutely unbelievable as I think this is, I’m happy, at least. That I get up every morning and think about whatever lies ahead of the day and not get into a panic state.