Time To Get Up

It's not merely sleepiness nor is it a pleasant dream that one longs to return to that keeps one curled up under a sleeping bag cum comforter. It's partially the delicious warmth trapped under this cover and the "just right" quality of the supportive mattress and down pillows that are keeping this blogger so horizontally satisfied. Then too, the world's demands and my disinclination to absorb any more stress right now makes the word "awake" seem like a dirty one. "Reveile", urgings like "up and at 'em" (always thought it was "up in Adam" and remained confused for years about Original Sin somehow being connected to my sleepyheadedness) and advice like "the early bird catches the worm!" all seemed part of a societal plot to force daylight and energetic endeavors upon a youthful lad needing his rest. The teen years, we are told, are a time requiring long visits with Morpheus and his gang. Growth and repair, via lingering in Snooze City is right and proper and matches one's great appetites for physical activity and libidinal as well as gastronomical pursuits at that stage of life.  But what is my excuse as middle age ages me and less hours of "down" time are allegedly needed and as comb-overs plus a less than supple spine all proclaim the approach of Geezerdom and the supposed increase in opportunities for catnaps galore in front of the t.v., at a show, lecture or movie (theoretically counteracting those fitful conk-outs in the wee {wee} hours that limit chances to sustain a prostrate position in blotto-land due to a burgeoning prostate)?  Again, that big mean ol' world out there may have something to do with it. Remember that cartoon of yore in which a newly hatched chick emerges out of his shell with a look of alarm and trepidation already stamped upon his face?  Next panel, this brand new guy on the block looks around, surely doesn't dig what he sees, and in the last panel has rearranged and restored all broken parts of his egg after returning to same in an attempt to "delete" his birth.  Can one "un-ring" a bell or argue with Khayyam: "The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,  Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."  So, doing one's best each and every time might be a good idea if second chances are illusory.  Each morning is a new beginning, Khayyam's fatalism notwithstanding and the choice remains: follow the good girl or the bad girl's way.  The one awakens and says "good morning, God!"  The other, upon opening her eyes says "Good God, morning??"