I really meant to go to shul this morning; honest I did. I even heard my alarm go off. And then I fell back to sleep as though I’d been drugged, or poleaxed. I went to bed at 8PM yesterday, exhausted from short sleep, fibromyalgia, and a long trip via the back roads to the-town-formerly-known-as-Berlin for a job interview.
I managed to keep up with observance as usual pretty well, except for making it to shul, mostly because I slept for 16 hours straight. It’s pretty easy to do a whole lot of nothing when you’re sleeping under a pile of cats.
I feel really badly about not going to shul today; I even actually had a dream that I had gone to some service somewhere, although I’ve never seen a synagogue as large and crowded as that was. (That was sometime after I had the dream about going to the weird hipster club — I am so not a hipster — with a friend, dressed only in jeans and a sweatshirt, and someone stole my beat-up old shoes from by the front door. I don’t wear jeans anymore, either, for what it’s worth. And I still have those shoes.)
I have to say that getting up on time was much easier when I was still working and still keeping some kind of schedule. I’m not much good at getting up in the morning to start with (I am what chronobiologists call “an extreme owl.), but having to get up for work makes a difference. Perhaps once I get another job (B”H soon) things will go back to normal.
In the meantime, there’s always next week.