It's been a week and I'm a year old since my last confession. Amazing math is happening at my house, from being the meaning of life (42) to being another prime number (43).
But we're readers here, why am I so caught up in numbers? Could it be that I was always better at math? (Truth: I was.)
To the confessional--
I confess that I spent most of my birthday in bed.
If I had turned 23, this statement might suggest the day included champagne with two glasses and whipped cream. If I had turned 30, you might think I was depressed. In my early 40's, when I say this people assume I'm sick or that I've pulled something.
What's really going on? I'm down with a cold and having been knocked down by it a few times in the last weeks (thinking I'm better, but am really not), I'm taking it easy, super-easy, babysteps to my regular life, that kind of thing. Since I'm never sick, I find all this sickness a drag, a limiting drag.
But don't feel bad for me, I actually *love* my bed and love spending the day in it. To me, this is a treat, a luxurious life, a love affair with down comforters, pillows, and a new electric blanket.
While there is another part of me that signs up for ridiculously long races that include paddleboards and medals, my other self loves lounging, reading in bed, napping, and lollygagging the day away. This is the self I feel like today, as I type this from my bed, laptop on lapdesk, two cats asleep next to me, and a view of the sky.
I confess one reason I love my bedroom is that it's on the second floor. I hate being on ground level, I love being up. Someone told me that this is because I'm a Capricorn and we climb mountains. I have never climbed a mountain (besides a day hike), but have climbed stairs to get a good view of my neighborhood.
I confess I've been reading and reruns of Will & Grace.
I have returned to rereading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, which is one of the most quotable books, I have highlights & notes all through it.
But mostly, I've spent my first hours of being 43 in bed just reading birthday wishes on Facebook and sleeping. I remind myself that time isn't wasted if you enjoy what you're doing, but still, I'm ready to run at the world, clean the house, get into my writing studio and create.
But not today.