Sometimes

Sometimes I wish my bed wasn't so comfortable.

It sucks me in, holds me there, refuses to let me get up.

Back when I had a regular mattress that was full of lumps and resembled a burrito when one would lay in the middle it was IMPERATIVE that I get up in the morning, prompted by the searing back pain said mattress would inflict.

Now, that is a thing of the past.

I set my alarm early this morning so I would get up and get some chores done before work. And what did I do instead? I reveled in the comfortability of my bed. The silky feel of the sheets against my skin, the luxurious coolness of the far reaches, the sound of Tristan breathing calmly beside me. I love to day dream, some might call me a day dream-a-holic.

As I lay there I took in every sensation, the firmness of the mattress, the plush softness of the sheets, the cool crispness of the down comforter and the sounds it makes when I move it, I watched the one tiny stream of sunlight that escaped the curtain move across the room, counted the breaths Tristan took, wondered what my cat was into out in the living room, running my hands over my breasts and stomach I appreciated the immeasurable softness of my skin and the weight of my breasts, the silky roundness of my stomach......

And then the phone rang.

Time to face the day.