Righteous Self Indulgence

I haven't written for a while now, and I can not guarantee that there will something for you to read. I can only follow the moment and use the time allotted. I have a week where the days are free, with no plans or appointments or children and the hubby is around only until the late afternoon. On day 1 I burned the to do list that had just been carefully and meticulously fabricated the day before and slept in until about 11, sadly this was as late as I could manage to keep myself in and out of desired sleep, tossing and turning hoping the sun could turn off so I could rest. It was until I'd given up that hope that I got myself out of bed and hugged a warm cup of coffee served from my wonderful no carafe coffee maker scheduled to keep my coffee warm for four more hours. No rush. I sank pleasurably into the the silence of the house. No phone nearby beeping notifications, the TV and music player off, only the sounds of the air conditioner turning on and off and the scuffling of our guinea pig, Freeduh, accompanied me. Such a wonderful moment is hardly delivered to me now a days. And yet somehow I manage to let a twinge of guilt come through, nudging, urging, to get one thing done. You'd be happy to know I quickly shrugged that pestering thought off. There was just no way I was going to waste my time on guilt, not at least before I guiltlessly selfishly self indulged in the nothingness of the present moment first.

I sit, sip, and dive into the inner world that has been dormant, cast aside, listed as not a priority in my usual day of being. I know it's a priority. I know it's important. But there just isn't enough time. If I selfishly indulge in a cup of coffee and write for an hour, maybe two, I will by the end have become a neglectful mother of a four year old, who will be running around first happily, then idly, then desperately beg for me to join her in embracing the day and get some love and attention. I can't quite swallow that being the case. At night, when she is asleep I will sip on a warm cup of tea I assure myself daily. Right. Is that before or after you spend time with your husband watching yet another movie, or before you crawl into bed half asleep after scratching Maya's back for an hour? Truth is, even when I try to make time, I only seem to add unnecessary stress instead.

So allow me this week of self indulgence, where I am not preoccupied with being a mother or a wife or a community organizer or friend, but just a moody, pensive, deep in existential thought of a being. There will be plenty of time, I am sure, for everything else, eventually.