THE ART OF LOLLING
Why is it just as the grey light of dawn filters through my bedroom curtains, I find the most cosy and comfortable nook in my bed that I have had for the entire night? This is not just a one-off, it happens with monotonous regularity and I've no doubt it does to your good selves too, dear reader. Warm, comfortable and cosy, deep in the arms of Morpheus and then the bloomin' alarm goes off. Is there some Law in the workings of the universe that I know not of, whereby the closer one is to having to rise and shine, the deeper and more delightful becomes one's slumber? A little akin to getting too near the edge of a black hole and falling in.
After the alarm goes off the pull of sleep is almost overwhelming. I lie and loll, unable to motivate myself to move. This brings me to the point of this blog, (yes, I do get there eventually). I am not one of nature's lollers - a loller being a person who enjoys just lolling about the place. I have a dear friend whose whole raison d'etre is lolling. She would be a world champion, an Olympian, if lolling was eligible for entry into these competitions. She adores lolling and has to be forcibly ejected from her slumbers as the "busy old fool, unruly sun" moves into her sphere.
She is a dear friend. Opposites obviously attract in our case. Were we to be occupying hammocks sited on golden sands, deep azure blue sea lapping nearby and a cool breeze gently swaying the palm trees, she would be in heaven. I, however, would probably be in hell. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration but I would not be a happy bunny - more than a little damp due to the excess heat, bored out of my skull with lolling and probably suffering from motion sickness.
And yet look at our ape relatives. They are up in the trees, gathering branches about them for a comfy bed for the night and they'll loll away happily and through the day too when they fancy. Lions loll in the heat of the day, leopards, too, up in the trees; you get my general drift. I suppose the best loll of all would be hibernation, but that's a step too far I think, even for my friend.
So how did my DNA get so over-modified and my lolling gene get left behind? Except for my early morning somnolence I am an 'up and at 'em' kind of gal. Spouse has come to dread the phrase 'I've been thinking...' as this usually heralds the announcement of a new project which will not involve any kind of lolling.
I do not know the answer to the the lolling question, but sometimes I cast an envious glance at my lolling friend and her cohorts - spread-eagled on sun-loungers, prostrate upon the sofa, or snoozing by a roaring fire. It looks inviting and they seem to have it off to a fine art.
Maybe I need to go back to basics and re-discover my roots. That's it! Roots. I'm off to the forest and maybe a little tree climbing is on the agenda. A whole new sport opens out for me - tree lolling. It could catch on. I'll see you at the Olympics.
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