Lying In Bed

I made a discovery just now at eighty five, although I sort of feel I knew it years ago.  The expression "I am feeling peckish" means I am somewhat hungry, whereas I, although I never use it, somehow thought it mean feeling slightly ill.  I was about to write that since  I felt slightly peckish this morning I chose to stay in bed.  Okay, since I woke up feeling under the weather I chose to stay in bed. I awoke at five thirty and then remembered that the city was turning off the water from midnight until 6AM, so that definitely sent me back under the covers, although there was enough bottled water and toilets with full tanks to allay and anxiety over deprivation that I might feel.  At six twenty I heard water gurgling in pipes all over the condo, a kind of cheerful communal sound to which I responded by pondering getting up.  I am a compulsive early riser.  But today I lay back and pulled the covers over me again, as soon as I had got up, taken a piece of toast with peanut butter so as to have something in my stomach for all the pills that were sliding down my digestive tract. But I discovered now in the early morning light of a day swathed in cold fog that my room was a mess.  Lying in bed gave me the opportunity the sad moment of truth to face: there were things, books, clothes, new exercise machine, papers for my Odyssey lecture course lying in promiscuous piles every which way.  Today said the grim, grey,  cold day outside on the lanai beyond the sliding doors, today is a day to CLEAN UP, and I fell back onto my pillow, rose briefly to type this thought, and now . . . . well, we'll just have to see, won't we?