Forced downtime

You know really need a break when you wake up on a Monday morning and absolutely nothing can get you out of bed. Not the maid frantically ringing your doorbell. Not the alarm that persistently goes off even after you have snoozed it four times already. Not the husband you need to kick out of bed, since he’s sleeping like a baby through it all and is most certainly going to be late. And least of all the promise of an action-packed week at work that lies ahead. No, it was just not happening today. Nothing worked.

So I gave in. Being under-the-weather, is nature’s way of telling you that you really need to hit pause for a bit. It only seemed fit, for all I can remember thinking and talking about is how I’m so fried and how I need a break. I’m working from home, so perhaps it isn’t the perfect break, but there’s nothing like beginning the week at home, in your boxers well past 8 30, lying in bed and browsing through your email. I’ve been dying for some downtime and I think this will do just fine for now.

I’d forgotten the joys of staying in at home. And considering I was lost and wallowing in reminiscence of my old life just a few days ago, this is a God sent break. Excuse me while I make myself another cup of chai, reheat my hot water bottle, snuggle up under the sheets in my air-conditioned  room that’s safe in the shade of red curtained glow. See you on the other side.


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