|This picture has nothing at all to do with today's topic. It's pretty, though, right?|
That occurred to me yesterday as I was trying to come up with a reason why I shouldn't go to my women's group salad supper. These are some of my favorite women in the world, but I was so, so tired.
Normally I'm a world champion sleeper (oh, how I love thee, arms of Morpheus) but the night before I had not been able to fall asleep. I went through my regular routine--toothbrushing, standing on one foot, standing on the other foot, check alarm, read until sleepy, turn off light, snore--but the snore didn't appear. Instead I rolled over and over like a rotisserie chicken, then I went into a different room and read for while so as to not disturb Husband, then I put on my threadbare chenille robe (which is like handing a baby a security blanket) and crawled back into bed. And then I watched the numbers change on my alarm clock.
By the time I was finally asleep it was only three hours before that same alarm clock began beeping that it was time for me to start my morning. I spent the day cranky and listless, rubbing my eyes and counting the hours until I could get back in bed and try the process again. I did not want to delay this moment by having a meal with my friends last night.
I had promised to bring a salad, though, so when I left work I threw a bag of pre-chopped lettuce into a nice bowl, grabbed a bottle of fancy dressing from my Christmas present stash, and promised myself I'd leave right after the meal.
You know how this ends, right? I had a wonderful time, and didn't even really consider skipping the meeting that followed the meal.
If I had given in to my preferences, I would have been in my default position instead of eating a lovely meal with lovely women, hearing about what's going on in my friends' lives and sharing my own goings-on. Heck, if I had given in to my preferences I would probably have been in my default position instead of going to the farm last weekend and then I would have missed seeing my father play the stringed bass in the community orchestra, and holding a sleeping baby.
Almost without exception, when I leave my default position I'm glad I have, and still I have to push myself to not fall back into it given half a chance. It's there when I'm too tired, when I can't think any more, when the weather is too cold or too hot to go outside again.
It's my default position but it's not always my friend.