In No Mood to Get Up

Dearest Rachel –

It’s six in the morning, and for whatever reason, I’m awake. It’s not quite pitch black, but it’s pretty thoroughly dark out yet. Several muscles surrounding my Achilles’ tendon are still screaming at me, despite my attempts to stretch them ex post facto. And I’ve just woken from a dream in which I and several others were commiserating with each other about the fact that Brussels, of all places, had been awarded the next available Olympiad. Bad enough they lead Europe around by the nose politically, now they have to dominate the sports news cycle for a time, too?

I won’t say I’ve been hanging around Lars too much (after all, yesterday was the first time in two weeks we’d gotten together), but he’s definitely having an influence on me. Anyway, suffice to say, I may be awake, but I’m in no mood to get up. Not yet, at any rate.


An hour into the day that I still don’t yet want to start, things have changed a little bit. It’s much lighter outside, making it difficult to roll back over and return to sleep. A few more attempts at stretching, and the muscles in my right heel have gone from screaming to a fairly dull grumble; they aren’t happy, but they aren’t beating me up about a situation that can’t be changed for the time being. And while I haven’t been able to get back to my dream colleagues, I have a little bit of esprit d’escalier for them – even if it is true that Brussels has the Olympic Games (which, since this was within a dream, is fairly unlikely), it’s more like they’re stuck with them than they’ve captured them, as the Games tend to bankrupt the city that hosts them these days. After all, each succeeding city is required to outdo the previous quadrennial’s celebration, making it more of a victim than a host. And a bankrupt Brussels might be that much less powerful in terms of dictating fiscal policy to the rest of the Continent, allowing the rest of the nations of Europe to do their own thing and go their own way. I’m not sure why I’m so concerned with some theoretical issue that may or may not exist on the other side of the Atlantic, but there we are.

Of course, none of this means that I’m any more eager to get up and get started with the day. In fact, I can hear knocking about across the hall, indicating that Logan is getting himself prepared for the day, which means I don’t dare step out of the bedroom and walk in on him. It’s just that much more excuse for me to stay in bed – or least, the bedroom – and not do anything for the next hour.


Two hours of sitting (lying? I still haven’t gotten out of bed, after all) around, doing nothing and going nowhere, and I’m actually starting to get a little more antsy. Since the forecast doesn’t anticipate the sun stepping out from behind the clouds, it’s about as bright in this bedroom as it’s going to get all day, what with the blinds being constantly down; the light seeps in, regardless. The muscles behind my heel are coming to terms with the fact that these past ten hours of relative inertia are the best treatment they’re likely to get from me; from this point on, once I’m vertical, even if only partially (because of being in a seated position), I’m going to be putting weight on them, so they really shouldn’t have been complaining for the past few hours.

And I’m not thinking about Brussels at all – or anywhere else in Europe, for that matter, apart from the recall of a little bit of yesterday’s discussion with my travel agent, and where I might go at approximately this time next year (and with whom – I’ll probably have to wait until Daniel and I return from Israel to decide if we want to travel together more often or not). There’s too much in my news feed about the U.S. for me to be concerned about what’s going on over on the other side of the world. Lars might be disappointed in my provincialism, but it is a continent’s worth of information to absorb – can I help it if the country I live in takes up most of that continent, in terms of population and activity?

None of this, I should point out, is exactly encouraging me to get up and get on with my day. However, I can’t sit here (lie here?) in bed all day; there are things to be done, and as each hour unfolds, I can think of a few more to do (like, for instance, Jenn’s birthday present – as well as some shopping of my own for winter walking gear, as Lars has encouraged me strongly to get on with). Best to have some warm water dumped over my head and get my chin scraped off, and get on with them, whether I really want to or not. Maybe, given enough time and energy put into the process, I can get into it all – a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ sort of thing.

In which case, honey, I should probably let you go, so that I can make my way forward. In the meantime, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. It seems I’m going to need it.

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I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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