Ever want to just stay in bed because life is wayyy to messed up?

SLEEP ALL DAY

Peter wondered when his life had gotten so convoluted that it was unbearable. Was it last week? Last year?

Didn’t he remember a time when he’d greeted each morning with pleasant anticipation? He’d loved his job, his wife, his dog, his house, the yard, an endless list of Blessings.

Those were the days when, since his wife Susan wasn’t a morning person, Peter and his dog Max were the first ones up and out of the house to officially greet the new day. It was Peter’s habit to spread his arms in welcome, while Max assured himself that no other dogs had claimed his territory in the night. A few sniffs and a leg lifted at the more important bushes satisfied Max – Peter strolled the garden saying good morning to the roses and the lemon trees. A quick game of chase the ball and then it was time to put the coffee on.

By then Susan would be in the bathroom brushing her teeth awake and splashing cold water on her face. It was true that she often grumbled at him over breakfast, “You are disgustingly cheerful this morning.” But it was also true that two cups of coffee and a shower would take that frown right off her face.

It had been a good life. Hadn’t it been a good life?

Peter had always thought so, but apparently Susan hadn’t. Because one day when he came home from work, she didn’t. He’d found a terse note from her on the dining room table that said, “Peter, I’ve had it. My attorney will be in touch.” She hadn’t even said ‘Dear’ Peter. And when the phone rang and he snatched it up hoping it was her and the whole note thing was a joke, it was his boss.

Mr. Radwick grimly told him that there would be a series of lay-offs and cutbacks, and that Peter was appointed to hand out the pink slips to people he’d worked with for the last ten years. When he tried to decline this onerous duty Mr. Radwick had shouted, “Just be glad that you still have a job!” and slammed the phone down so hard that Peter heard the reverberations for half an hour.

He hated to go to work now, as all his co-workers had begun shunning him and calling him “the hatchet man” behind his back, which he certainly didn’t deserve.

He also dreaded answering the phone as every other call was from a collection agency. When Susan left, she took her paycheck with her and he was in arrears on half the bills.

His email inbox was a minefield of threats from her attorney and people he’d been forced to fire. To top it all off, he’d had to take Max to the vet for surgery on a mysterious lump on his back. Dr Hurst told him they’d have to keep Max for three days.

Peter went to bed early that night feeling very alone in the big empty house, not even Max to keep him company.

His only cheering thought was that tomorrow was Saturday and he didn’t have to go to work and face Mr. Radwick or his whispered nickname. Maybe he’d just sleep all day Saturday – maybe Sunday too.

He wished he could sleep for a month and wake up to his old life.

When did it ever get this bad?