i.e. The Aforementioned Morning Sex

I did something this morning that I almost never do. I was going to say "that I never do" but, given that I did it this morning, "never" seemed an exaggeration. I suppose the list of possibilities is near endless. Maybe I skipped my morning coffee or I didn't eat right when I got out of bed. Maybe I didn't work out. Or maybe I rode a real bike outdoors instead of my spin one indoors. I suppose I could be writing this from bed, meaning I haven't yet gotten out of bed. Maybe I have a rip roaring hang over. Or, it is Sunday so maybe I went to church. Or - oooooh, this has to be it - I had morning sex.

That's it!

No, it's not...for many reasons.

1. Going to church on a Sunday morning is more probable than me ever having an overnight guest to engage in morning sex with. Or any sex. At any time of day. Remember that I'm an atheist (and not currently doing research for a novel about a nun). Let that sink in. In my atheist life, church is a more likely occurrence than sex. 
2. This blog is the second to last place I will ever discuss the details of my sex life. The absolute last place? My mother's living room. Which would actually be the exact same thing since she reads everything that I write....and publish. So, even if I'd had morning sex, you (and my mother) wouldn't be reading about it. 
3. I have better things to do with my morning than sex. Yes, yes, yasssssss. It's a rationalization. See #1 above. 

Ok, so if it wasn't morning sex or a hangover (No Danish and German beer in sight) or church, what was it? Ready for it? I promise it's shocking. Both feet on the floor and both hands on your phone or tablet? Ok. Here goes...

I took a leisurely morning.

Yep. That's it. It it. I did something I almost never do (even when on vacation) and I enjoyed a leisurely morning. Before you stand up and applaud the much needed release of my strangle-hold on purpose and goal-direction, I need to come clean. I was in my car at straight up 10:00AM and on my way to Lola Savannah's to work/write. By that early (for a Sunday) hour, I'd eaten two breakfasts, fed all the outdoor cats and the indoor dog, cleaned up the recycling that had been piling up, folded a load of laundry and thrown another in the washer, contemplated cutting my hair, posted about said contemplation on social media, charged my laptop and Garmin, put in a solid hour on my spin bike, and showered.

I know what you're thinking, pondering, asking yourself with a thundering skepticism. How in the HELL (caps, bold, italics, and underline intended) is that a leisurely morning? Ok, arguably I did more in three and a half hours (I got out of bed at 6:30) than many people do in an entire leisurely day. Some of you will argue that I completely misunderstand the definition of "leisurely." No, I got it. "Characterized by leisure: UNHURRIED." I have a degree in humanities and creative writing. I know words and use them pretty well. "Leisurely" isn't a tough one. 

So, here we are right where the rubber meets the road, so to speak. You equate leisurely with lazy, whereas I equate it (Correctly, I might add according to Merriam-Webster) with a lack of hurry, i.e. unhurried. Look, y'all, my life is a race. Each and every moment of every day - for the often aggravating and intense most part - is efficiently planned and geared for success. Little that I do lacks purpose and much is done with a swiftness and a passion few can (or care to) duplicate. Yes, I spin my wheels a lot (Take the last three weeks since getting home from vacation, for example) and I kick myself all too often for not accomplishing enough, but my record over the last four years speaks for itself.

This morning I set all that aside. I cut myself some slack and gave myself a little wiggle room. I didn't put myself on the clock - You must be to X by Y time - as I usually do even (especially?) on my days off. I have zero plans, just things I want to get started (work on my fourth novel) and done (a blog post). I might meet a friend later, but that's not set in stone. That in itself is odd for me. Usually, I demand when and where so I can plan my day. Not today, though. Odd... 

What's really odd is that I accomplished everything I wanted and needed to (I did forget to take chicken out of the freezer to thaw) and I got to work at about the time I would have even if I'd pushed myself. And my morning was actually relaxing and largely stress-free. Win-win. 

Sort of... I can't let leisurely mornings become habit, though. With a new writing project and a late summer 10k  on the horizon, plus a tennis game that needs some work, I don't have much time to waste. I have to keep my focus and my intensity. My days off will be honed to a knife's edge, my time divided between tennis workouts, running, and hours upon hours behind my laptop.  

Sounds like insanity? Probably to most people it does. To me, though, being passionately busy is sanity. It keeps my thoughts centered on things I can control - my goals, my fitness, and my writing. It's all a rationalization to fool myself into believing I'm living the life I want to live? Maybe, but I can do you one better. It's sublimation. If I'm tired from all the running, writing, abject busy-ness, I won't have time to think about what's lacking in my life (i.e. the aforementioned morning sex). I was a psychology major; I can psychologize myself all day long. In fact, I'm probably in better touch with my sanity and insanity than most. 

Look, I know what I know and I do what I do. I may go to church more often than I have sex, but if I knock out a fourth novel and a forty-five minute 10k this summer, I'm more than good with it. And if I stay sane? Icing on the cake, baby. Icing on the cake.