It has been a long day. Maybe not physically exhausting, but mentally draining — and busy. I’ve been on the sofa, drawing pictures, watching — with the other eye — “Outlander” which I read (most of them, but not all) but never saw.
We’ve been looking for a new show to watch, but so far, all the new stuff has been bad or bad enough. We haven’t gotten through the first episode of most of these shows, so we’re unlikely to get through any more of them. We have instead watched everything we can on the National Geographic channel. Whales never cease being the best thing on television.
Garry has gone to bed. I’m still on the sofa, trying to get up the energy to leave the sofa and walk down the hall to the bedroom. The Duke has been chuffing, huffing, growling, and barking because he wants to go to bed, but I have to give him his late night treat. He cannot go to bed without it. He is very OCD about his treats.
Finally, I get it together. I give Duke his bacon-flavored I-don’t-really-want-to-know what’s-in-it treat. He feels another one would be a great idea. I don’t agree. We part friends, but he grumbles all the way to the bedroom.
I need to brush my teeth. I need to set out tonight’s medications and tomorrow morning’s (the very early morning) meds. I have a pink cup for the AM drugs and a white one for tonight’s. I brush. I remember to take off my earrings and my rings. I squirm out of my clothing and into my nightgown. I doublecheck to make sure whatever needs doing is done.
The moment has arrived.
I adjust the height of the bed, pull away that huge, heavy quilt and crawl into bed. The mattress enfolds me and the blanket circles me in feathery warmth. It is the best moment of the day.
Everything around me is soft and warm. I am complete. Nothing I’ve done all day can match the unspeakably delicious moment of curling up in the bed. It’s the best moment of the day. I will lay cocooned for as long as I can, not moving a muscle. I don’t even have words to describe it because…
It is perfect.