My wife told me this morning that she’d finally understood my waking up process. She said it was like the whole world outside was on fire, and I was sitting there, just saying to myself, “Fuck it.” This is it exactly. For the first half an hour I’m awake, if that half hour is before 10 in the morning, I wouldn’t care if the whole world burned if I could get a few more hours (minutes?) of sleep. There’s a little part of me, though, that is always thinging about looking for a fire extinguisher somewhere. Eventually that part wins out, and I go face the day as well as I can. Or sometimes it doesn’t, I go back to sleep, and have a mental health day. I need those, I suppose, to assure myself that the world isn’t actually burning.
