Pajama Pants

Life is cyclical. Brief ones, long ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Okay, I don't know what the hell a skinny or fat cycle is, it just rolled off the fingertips. But seriously, there are cycles that repeat in any host of timed intervals. Hourly cycles, daily cycles, weekly cycles, bicycles...okay that one rolled off the fingertips, too.

The point is, we find ourselves in routines that are cyclical in nature. Take my morning routine for example: force my eyes open, roll over and engage in Cooper Cuddles, wait for my coffee to arrive on my night stand (in my favorite National Park mug, the perfect temperature and shade of coffee ice cream but without the sweetness), manage the first sip with Cooper pushing me out of my spot, pull myself out of bed, straighten my inevitably twisted pajama pants, shuffle out of the bedroom and greet the day.

Then there are cycles that are less warm and fuzzy and more like a recirculating hole in class 3+ whitewater. Or like sitting and watching one of those newish fancy front loading washing machines. These cycles are not as fun to describe intimately. They are the cycles that can leave me feeling exhausted, bruised and a little bit broken. These are the ones I hope are not repeated as often. Don't get me wrong, they can be pivitol moments in time that make me a better human being moving forward. They can also be the things that move me further from the human being I want to be.

I suppose the important thing is to stop every now and then and revaluate these cycles and their impact. These are the moments when I can decide if waking up with twisted pajama pants really matters.