The Wonders of Hibernation

I woke up at 2.30 p.m., to ponder about the possibilities of having slept into the day.

I blinked.

There was a part of me who knew that if I wanted it, I could’ve simply rolled over and slept. I would’ve been able to sleep past the day, and maybe into the next one. It didn’t have anything to do with weariness. It was mostly because I could.

But I didn’t. I wanted the day to mean a little more than sleep, so I woke up and brushed my teeth and stayed in the room until I was hungry. And after I ate, I stayed in the room some more. I stayed until I decided that the dad would not allow me to skip feeding the dogs, and walked out of the room and stretched.

I went for dinner at the grandmothers (she cooked Lap Chap Choi, which is something I couldn’t translate, but I can best describe it as sour-spicy soup with vegetables and mushrooms. It is amazing, and my stomach yearns for it still), and when we came back I stayed in the room to re-watch Zombieland. I’ve only left the room to check if my father was asleep, but he isn’t; Manchester United plays at 1.30a.m tonight.

So here I am now, not sleepy at all, and truthfully very tempted to drive out to McDonald’s, go through the Drive Thru’ and get myself some nuggets. Truthfully truthfully, I wanted to call for a McDelivery and have the nuggets delivered here instead. I’ll even tip the delivery guy.

And then I’ll dream a Dream, and wake up at 2.30p.m tomorrow, to ponder about the possibilities of sleeping through the week.

That, I would think, would be the best thing ever.