Some days, you are allowed to stay in bed

Like the mornings when you're jolted out of deepest sleep by a trilling alarm, and even though it's the same alarm that goes off every morning, it still sounds like an alien and unidentifiable sound. A hostile and violent enemy.

Your heart leaps into your mouth.

And as your mind fights through the multiple layers of fog, rising gradually and strugglingly towards consciousness, you wonder why you feel immobile, why your legs feel chained to the bed.

You fight a rising surge of panic.

And then realise that a night's tossing and turning has left you inextricably tangled with your duvet, chaining your legs to each other and the bed. The initial relief that your legs haven't lost mobility after all is replaced by the (logical) philosophical conclusion that life is sending you a sign - maybe you're not meant to get out of bed today.

Much happier for having arrived at this conclusion, you drift back into a contented torpor.

Only to wake up ten minutes later when reality sets in (as it inevitably does). Unfortunately, getting out of bed is not an option; it is a necessary evil.

So you fight the duvet, extricate yourself from its ponderous folds, and swing your legs over the side of your bed. Congratulate yourself for not having stepped on any of the numerous (and ensnaring) sandals lying on the ground in wait of an unsuspecting footfall. Stand up, only to find out your legs are still immobile, and when you try to step forward, you discover yourself sprawled face-first on the floor instead. Look down at your feet, and realise the undersheet is still bound tightly around your ankles.

So you give up on the struggle to make it through the day, and crawl back into bed instead, for an additional half hour.

For the pretence, even if only temporary, that some days, you are allowed to stay in bed.