In which I am a log

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Yesterday was the last day of a three-day weekend. It was overcast when the two urchins clambered into bed around 7 a.m. Eventually we all got up and Ben made pancakes and I settled down to read the paper while Ben immersed himself in revising architectural drawings for the Forever House. The kids were blissfully quiet, enraptured by Noggin. And I just couldn't get motivated. There wasn't anything pressing to do, anyway. And the kitchen was kind of cold. So... I tiptoed back upstairs, climbed back into the toasty bed and took a post-breakfast nap. The icing on the cake was hearing rain spatter against the window as I huddled under the comforter. The best part was that I don't think anyone even noticed. Children didn't come whining, husbands were not standing by the bed clearing their throats ostentatiously... I swear on days like that (rainy fall/winter Sundays) there really is no reason to get out of bed in the first place. And it's a good thing I have a job because it's entirely possible that I would never get out of bed if I wasn't paid to do so.

I just found out what we should have been doing instead of posting every day for a month during NaBloPoMo.

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