Saturday, February 21, 2009

Recovery Day

Periodically I have a day where I fall into a recovery routine. There's not anything predetermined about it. I didn't sit down and develop a regimen for getting over a long pull. It seems as though it always happens about the same way though.

It usually starts with an abnormally long period of sleep. I passed out on the couch at 10 pm last night, moved to my bed after midnight, and didn't get up until 10 this morning. I also took a nap this afternoon. I don't know how long I was out but it was long enough and deep enough for me to have dreams. Also, one of my wife's friends was over when I went down and a different one was there when I woke up.

There's a particular sort of detachment that goes along with a recovery day as well. The feeling of being so busy that I can't get my head out of it is gone. Somehow I go through the day feeling insulated from time. I'm not worrying about a schedule or deadlines. I'm not even worried about dinner time. I snack. I lounge. I read. I play with the kids.

The best part of the day usually comes at the end. I sit down at the kitchen table after everyone has gone to bed with a book and just snack. I've been doing this for decades. The practice started way back when I was in high school. I read a chapter or so and then get up and grab something else. Yogurt, bread and jam, cheese, salami, candy, a glass of milk. It goes on and on. Something about spending two hours alone and silent, gently stuffing my face is all the therapy I seem to need.

I don't know how, but somehow a day like that hits the reset button for me. The kids won't annoy me so much tomorrow. My wife will seem that much sweeter. The prospect of another week of work won't seem daunting. And the best part of it is that I just seem to do it all on autopilot. There's no structure, no procedure, no yoga or meditation. I'm my own day spa.

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