When a day is more than a day,

but a lesson to itself, you’re a student in ways you never thought you’d be.  My last day before term starts, but it’s more than that.  I’m learning that I can have whatever I want so I need be mindful of my wishes.  Time for breakfast, I deserve.  So I had some takeout, Denver omelette, from my favorite breakfast/brunch/lunch spot up the street, but now am tempted by a nap.  Should. I.  Asking self the whole ‘should I’ thing all morning long and with so many facets.  Why.  Why not just do?  Still have music to buy, budget to do.. marketing to do…  planning…..  What makes me think I have time for nap?  Maybe the body needs one.  Sleep, a bit scattered and shredded last night by little Emma and her couch.  So the writing father thinks even more about the nap, how amazing it sounds, how the gardener is not outside with his mower and how incredibly quiet it is in here and out on the street, the patio.  I should write on the patio.  But it gets hot out there.  No, it’s all shaded, protected, no sun, no direct heat.  “Shit,” I think, “now there’s really no reason to not write.” Journey to my own office, my 100% sovereign business, teaching and selling—  Just felt eyes get heavy.  Make coffee!  Go outside!  But the couch behind me looks like a heaven-palm.  Resist or give in.  My last day off, don’t overthink it.  I’m sure as a reader, if you’re still reading, you’re phenomenally bored, right, reading my inner pingpong game and deliberation.  Hell with it.  90 minute nap, then wake to coffee and story.  Every step toward my self-sustainability.  My office.  Travels.  Total wellness— mentally, physically, financially, creatively.

Up from nap.  About one hour and twenty-something minutes I’ll never get back.  Yes I have napper’s remorse, if there is such thing.  But I’m back at keys before launching back out there, into the day where I’ll return the book I bought for Alice’s class, get a car wash (first in ‘I don’t want to tell you how long’), and probably a Composition Book date to that café by the car wash spot.  No more sbux… too predictable.  Have to swing way outside regularity’s spray-fray.  Music back on in the last circulation of this sitting.  Coffee at right and now I see the nap was more a boon than a burden.  Why?  ‘Cause now with less time I’m more urgent, more insistent, more directed to getting done what I need.  So is that to say I had too much time before the nap?  In a matter of scope, yes.  Just now, I have more a containment, I feel, somewhat I’d even say a panic.  Yes, urgency, but more than that.  I’ll be in my office in no time.  NONE.  When I am, I’ll have the same imminent incitement.  Once I have IT, I’ll never let IT go.  I will never merely exist.  I will always be known for living.  Living, and not that simple predictable existing, begets bliss.  Forever lives this type of Creative.