In which I dream of Blanket Mountain

 

I don't normally nap. I'm not good at it. I lie there and my brain just continues in its usual squirrel mode and it's hopeless so I give up.

 

But today. Oh, today, I'm willing to wager a medical professional would write me a note for a nap.

 

It's not because I'm that tired. I mean I am sleepy, fatigued. But it's more that anytime someone opens their mouth I want to roar back.

 

That's a problem. A problem warranting a nap.

 

All I'm really thinking about today is blankets. I want to be under a mountain of blankets. Warm. Heavy. Warm.

 

I want to put my arms around Max and squish his fur and kiss his face.

 

I'm on my second cup of coffee. Listening to sleepy music, because anything too poppy will make me really unpopular with those around me. I love T. Swift and some Biebs tunes, but not right now. No thank you.

 

***

 

I watched a made-for-TV Christmas movie last night and didn't hate it. This isn't a huge surprise, but a little bit of a surprise.

 

***

 

My sweater is a hand-me-down. It's soft and green -- two things I love -- but it's a little oversized. I'm irritated by the excess fabric on the sleeves.

 

I'm irritated by everything today, though.

 

I do look like a Girl Scout, I realized, and admittedly this was not a sad realization. The green in my sweater and the brown in the shirt peeking out at the collar are just screaming Thin Mints. Paired with my conservative skirt, I look positively juvenile. I don't hate this, because it's fitting.

 

I sat in my car at lunch, and fitfully hoped to be less fitful.

 

I listened to meditation music. I read half a page of a book. I ate snacks. I got thirsty. It started to rain and I listened to the gentle rapping on the roof of the Corolla Coaster.

 

***

 

It's my Honey Muffin's birthday today. I've spent two full years of his life with him, and I love that. I'm overwhelmed by that -- how amazing that I've been so privileged to do so.

 

I want to pop popcorn and snuggle on the couch. I want to talk to Max as he saunters by and then scratch the top of his head when he squishes alongside my leg.

 

I don't know if I want to read, or write, or watch a movie or stitch.

 

But I want blankets on me. Blankets are the best.