The title may sound like waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but it isn't like that at all.
I got up late because I like sleeping in a bit on Mondays. I like savouring that tiny bit of fact that I did not have to get up early before sunrise and get dressed and endure the road traffic to get to an office I could not leave until after sunset.
It's going to be a long day but it will be a long studio day. I've put on a favourite pair of soft pants with a cat-printed shirt (that my late grandma has given me) for doing various work with, including clearing the studio of accumulated clutter from the dayjob weeks and getting back into painting.
I'll have to stay put in the house until the next paycheck comes in. (My Thor Ragnarok date this week is on the rocks.) The October bills have come in.
But I will not regret or feel guilty about buying myself a can of spiced tea yesterday (or the jar of Colombian coffee that accompanied it).
You'll find me writing more now. The first few days, even weeks, will be mostly mundane things. Tediousness of my daily life. Eventually I'll find that the floor beneath my feet have started to get rough with scattered leaves, and the hard cement gives way to wood, and then softer earth. Eventually I'll be able to speak forest language again. Maybe this time I can stay longer. Maybe this time I can stay for good. Maybe this is where I need to stay put to be found.