This morning, as you may have read, I got up early. After only 6 hours of sleep, I was wide awake at 8am on a Saturday. Perhaps I should clarify that I never gotten up (without a reason) this early on a Saturday before; not even once. If I don't have somewhere to be, I sleep in; it's a hard and fast rule I've lived by since birth. This morning, however, I decided to "just try" getting up and getting going at that abnormal-for-a-weekend hour. I made myself some tea, processed some thoughts on the blog here and finished a load of laundry. Productive morning, and it felt great. I then went downtown for lunch, to visit some out-of-town friends & their adorable baby; at Calhoun's, a trendy little spot on West Broadway (where everyone but us had a laptop and a latte at their table).
By the time we had visited and I was back on the road to my house, I was feeling slightly nauseated. By the time I pulled into my driveway an hour later, I was almost falling asleep at the wheel (my head even nodded a few times... don't tell my mom). I stumbled in my house, changed quickly into my pj's, and crashed. Four blissful hours later, I awoke. To the smell of my roommate and her friend eating a late dinner.
It's been about 3 hours since I woke up, and I've passed enough time and gotten in enough activity to remove "slothful" from today's descriptive words. With that being said - I'm off to bed again, and I can feel my body shutting down as I write this.
I blame you, 8am.