Is this what depression looks like? I am daydreaming about winning the lottery. After thinking about what charitable bequests I would make and considering the matter of trust funds for niece & nephews & other children we know, I get down to the nitty gritty. What special wonderful things do I want to have money for, for myself?
I would pay off our bills.
I would pay someone to clean my house.
I would get to sleep late.
I’m obsessed with sleeping. I want to put a pallet in a spare office at work so I can take an afternoon nap. I want to (but rarely do) go to bed at 9:00 pm every day. I never want to get up in the mornings – whether it’s 6:00 on a work day or 9:30 on the weekend. The idea that I might have enough money so that I don’t have to get out of bed is bliss.
I go through the motions of prayer (using the Anglican rosary that Dr. M gave me), but I really don’t want to have anything whatsoever to do with God. I skip church. I do the happy dance when Bible Study is canceled. I glance at God sideways and go, “shoo!”
On the other hand, I’m happy with my job and my husband. I love our little house & the things we’ve planted and the birds that make us laugh. I don’t even mind my long commute because I get to “read” a lot more books that way (currently playing: Whisper to the Blood a Kate Shugak mystery by Dana Stabenow).
I’m content, except for that business of wanting to sleep late. Perhaps my dreams are filled with the God I’m avoiding and I think that five more minutes will provide the secret to life. Hmm. I think I’ll pay closer attention when I do my rosary tonight.