At some point in the past few months, Terri and I came to the sanity- and marriage-saving agreement that one of us would get to sleep in each morning of the weekend while the other rose with Lydia at the crack of dawn. Today was my day to stay in bed.
It. Was. Bliss.
In my younger days (see two years ago and every year previous), sleeping in was close to the be all and end all of my existence. Often times, my first waking thought would be of getting to go back to bed later that night. Each morning I would shower and get dressed in the dark, expending as little energy as possible, with the hopes that I could catch a few extra winks in the back seat, as a passenger in my carpool. This often led to some odd and mis-matched wardrobe choices, and a barely suppressed rage when faced with an overly chatty member of the carpool...
Don't get me wrong (not that I think anyone would, and I do find it funny that parents feel that they have to justify every minute spent away from their children with this, but...) I love spending time with the family, I just need a good reboot every now and then. "Every now and then" being one morning a week... today, to be specific. And it was just like old times, except that I can only reach 9:30 at the latest these days...
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