Narrative Poem: A Lazy Day in Bed

IMG_0090A Lazy Day in Bed

Today I just feel spent. Twice before noon my sugar levels dropped leaving me weak, shaky and sweaty. Pretzels for breakfast just ain’t cuttin’ it. I have a low-lyin’ headache, and I’m cravin’ a Coke Zero (a habit I just can’t quit) something fierce. Just one of those days.

This is the first weekend morning when I have had nothing to do. No baseball game, no weekend retreat, no garage sale. Of course, I couldn’t sleep in, even though that was my deepest wish last night. A body just does what it wants without askin’ permission.

I need to get out of bed. Shower. Brush my teeth. Work on my list of things to do. I write a list every day. Sometimes I add to yesterday’s list that’s scribbled on the backside of a crumply Kroger’s receipt. Sometimes I get me a new piece of typing paper, fold it in half and make it all real proper like with numbers and crossout marks in red ink.

I’m not a compulsive list maker. I don’t have to write one to maintain some inner balance or keep from my shorts from twistin’ up in knots. Just got me that ADHD, and I do it for the rememberin’. Otherwise, time just trickles always like water off a mountain in spring.

The thing with ADHD is that everything pulls at my attention like near invisible silk strings from a banana spider’s web. I go to check my email, and an hour later I know more about how red haired children are created than the greatest genetic students in the most hallowed medical schools. But, the dishes didn’t get done. Nor the laundry. Nor do I have a plan to feed my family this evenin’.

The thing is I just don’t like doin’ the laundry or moppin’ floors or pickin’ the weeds out of the flower beds (if you can call ‘em flowers). Those things don’t stir the happy clouds in my mind. So I tend to embrace my ADHD brain and go on mental field trips just to avoid the mundane.

Someone once told me St. Theresa Lisieux, a cloistered nun in France, believed that doing these mundane chores with the right spirit could bring one closer to God. Like offerin’ it up as a form of prayer. I like that and try to see my life and work this way, but then I get restless and am overcome by the need to create something—anything.

Right now I am making plans to recreate my home’s staircase. Why? Don’t know. Just got it in my head is all. And, so I become obsessed with the how-tos of this creative endeavor. I’m sorta sittin’ here doing research on refinishing stairs, which is why I still haven’t bathed, still haven’t unloaded the dishwasher, and still haven’t scrubbed any toilets.

Plus, as I said before, I feel spent, got me a headache, and just want to laze the day away in my bed without doing’ anything. But, I guess I already blew that goal because I created this here poem.

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