Ssssh. Don't tell anybody.
It was raining this morning. Pouring. We walked Rupert as usual. Chris drove off to work, I dried Rupert off and he curled up in the Barcalounger for his morning nap. I went upstairs, took off my soaking wet socks and the sweat pants I'd worn for the walk because the pant legs were soaked and had made my way into the bedroom to make up the bed and start my day.
The flannel sheets welcomed me back, my pillows still bunched up from too short a night's sleep....AND....the bed was empty....hubby safe at work and the hairy beast snoozing away downstairs. It was still dark and dreary outside. No emails demanded response. Denise is working today, Mary Ellen and Jeffrey are out of town, the mother-in-law staying in her end of town today, I could wait awhile before printing out poetry for the Open Mic tonight and any household chores can certainly wait.
I climbed back between those sheets, something I'm not usually inclined to do, as I'm one who has a difficult time napping. I stretched out and enjoyed the full width of the bed, not my usual position of nearly hanging off the edge as hubby likes the middle of the bed and Rupert often sleeps between us. And I fell fast asleep, had a lovely dream about a circus in Afghanistan, not surprising as I'm re-reading The Kite Runner and Water for Elephants currently.
But I'm feeling a little bit guilty for indulging in this rainy morning pleasure.
So, don't tell anyone, ok?