It is Saturday afternoon. I have missed my Refine class. I am hours overdue for a run and appointment with my trainer. I am sometimes prone to lateness, but not by hours. Usually by a window of approx. 10 mins.
I slept till noon.
I am the sort of woman who has spent a lifetime cultivating irritating alarm clock habits. Ask anyone who has every lived with me or been the victim of “Time Zone Arbitrage” — wherein I request a wake-up call I beg someone in Europe or Asia to wake me up at an odd hour in NY or California, or vice versa.
I set approximately fourteen alarms each morning.
When I was a kid, I used to set my alarm in order to wake up my mother down the hall. Or leave a note for my parents outside their door letting them know when I needed to be roused.
Anyway. My alarm clock got turned off this morning. So imagine my surprise when I rolled over and it was noon.
At some point today, I’ll make it to the gym. And I’ll make it out to Connecticut to pick up Roo, and I’ll see Katka and Matthew, and I’ll resume the rest of my New York life.
I had wanted to savour this springtime Saturday; I had wanted to bask in the New York sun; I had wanted to go to brunch; I had wanted do a lot of things. I am a do-er.
But I obviously needed to sleep. And it’s weird, and maybe funny to not be completely in control; to be willing — suddenly; finally — to accept the things I need, instead of relentlessly, blindly pursuing what I think I want.
Everything’s changing; changed, and for the better, I think.