Sunday Snooze

I hoped I heard wrong ... nope ... there it was again. This time M's call was clearer and not muffled by the blanket over my head. "What? I'm sleeping."

I don't know when last I had a Sunday afternoon snooze but, with my eyes closing and my head nodding just two pages into my book, it wasn't much of a leap to recline the Laz-E-Boy and pull the blanket over my body and my head.

M had to see it to believe it. His voice was just a metre away from me now. "Can it wait? I just want to have a catnap." I wasn't going to surface from my indulgence if I didn't have to. M let his sleeping wife lie.

Ahh ... bliss. I felt a swell of relaxation. I erased thoughts of guilt: later, they can plague me later.

As I nodded off Gary Bertwistle's Aussie advice from his book, 'Who Stole my Mojo', filtered through: get your Mojo into high gear - catch a weekend nap in the afternoon. According to Gary Bertwistle, a Sunday snooze will revive me and have me looking and feeling terrific in no time.

I'm counting on it, Gary! Tiredness slipped in the back door uninvited long before Christmas. Its reluctance to move on means there are days I have red sore eyes, fatigue in my shoulders and impatience close at hand. I really should put your book next to my bed again for night-time reminders to not let anyone, and mostly myself, steal my Mojo.

Thank you, I appreciate your license to indulge in a Mojo restoring snooze.