Clash

2.15.18

I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. The time projected up there (clearly enough to be seen without my glasses) was 7:46.

That’s a time that is absolutely normal to most people – but I’m a freelance writer, and I’m smarter at night. So a quarter to eight in the morning is a gag time. Ech.

Balance class is at ten today. Should I stay or should I go?

(In the soundtrack of my brain, Joe Strummer slung his guitar over one shoulder and that iconic riff began to spool out. Ba-da-da, ba-da-da-da, DAH.) (Frick, frick, frick.)

On the GET UP side – Bob has agreed to DJ today. This is the first time anyone in the class other than Steve or me has volunteered to provide the music and I am looking forward to it. Everyone in balance class is on the Wisdom and Experience side of the gender gap (we’re old), so it’s unlikely that Bob will be treating us to something cringe-inducing, like electronic dance music or techno. He mumbled something about the Beatles and the Beach Boys last week, so – thumbs up.

On the STAY DOWN side – I never did get back to the store to retrieve the two large containers of yogurt that must have stayed out of sight on that new “here’s your grocery bag” carousel the Giant installed a while ago. So I BOUGHT yogurt – I just didn’t actually get it home. So now I’m out of the mainstay of my breakfast.

Barbara frowns with great severity on anyone attempting to take Balance Class who hasn’t eaten. That means I’m going to have to go with the fallback:

Oatmeal.

Yuck.

It doesn’t matter if you call it “parritch” with a Scots accent; oatmeal is just not good. You can dress it up with all the fruits and nuts and liberal use of raw honey that you want; it’s still going to be warm, lumpy library paste. Might as well burn it in the cooking process; perhaps it will give it some character. Some flavor.

So the Clash and I lay in bed together. “Hoo!” called Joe, with his ankles crossed and his head propped up on my satellite pillow. “Hollah!”

I’m very self-indulgent in the early hours; very prone to turning over with determination and saying “It’s not good for the body to go with this little sleep. I’ll do my HEP today instead of balance class.”

“Darlin’, you gotta let me know – should I stay or should I go?” crooned Joe, whacking away at the guitar lying across his stomach.

In the end, the single element that saved me from sinful sloth was that I realized I had to pee anyway. And once I was up, I just kept going. Now I’m typing while grimly spooning up oatmeal. Gross. Soon I’ll go get dressed and go to Balance Class and listen to good music (although not as good as the Clash) and at the end of class, I’ll feel absurdly proud of myself.

All because I had to pee this morning.

The moral of the story is: See how important hydration is?!

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