53. Play the Tape Through
I drove two hours to a training later that day, and to the gym after that. When I got home after 9:00, I still had things to do. My laptop sat on the kitchen table in front of a wooden chair. I had left it there to remind myself to get to work as soon as I got home.
In the living room a soft, oversized, blanket rested next to the TV remote on the most comfortable couch I’d ever owned. My cat was already sleeping on top of a cushion. If I settled in, he’d curl up near my neck and purr. The dog would crawl into my lap and sleep. “I could sit in the living room and work,” I said to my laptop. “And the animals miss me.”
NA has a slogan, ‘play the tape through.’ It suggests we predict how whatever we’re thinking of doing ends.
I said to myself, “It ends with me sleeping on the couch, remote in hand, happy in my blanky, until the next morning. I wake up in my clothes, work not done, unprepared for the day, nasty taste in mouth because I fell asleep without brushing my teeth.”
I sat down at the kitchen table, muttering to myself, but wide awake.
Today I will play the tape through.
Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.
Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose
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