When I was a kid my mom used to let me stay home from school from time to time just for the hell of it. She called it my "mental health" day. She said that every now and then you need some time off from your responsibilities to just do whatever you want. It makes it easier, she'd say, to digest your routine when you have to go back to it the next day. I never really bought this, because going back to school the day after a mental health day was always harder than otherwise, kind of like when you take a bite of a candy bar and then someone takes it away from you before you can take another bite. You get the taste in your mouth and just want more, you want the candy bar that you could have done without until you bit into it and got that taste in your mouth. Still, I'd torture myself by taking mental health days every chance I got, because that day off was so sweet. In fact, it became such an ingrained part of my routine that I almost didn't graduate high school because I had too many absences.
The only rules of mental health days were that I was not allowed to leave my room (except to eat or shit), watch TV, or have friends over. If I was calling out sick, I had to act sick. It seemed reasonable to me. Still does.
My early mental health days I would spend playing with blocks and army men on the floor of my room. Nothing heals the mind like simulating the desctruction of tiny plastic men and monotone wooden structures. As I grew older, I'd spend the day in bed reading comic books and listening to music. Still older, and I'd slip a Playboy inside the comic book (in case my mother walked in) and beat off. Repeatedly. My mom actually caught me polishing my knob on one such day. She walked in, said, "Oh, you're... doing... something...", and then walked out. We never talked about it again, obviously. Yes, I finished.
I had a list of things to do today, and I did none of them. Instead, I stayed in bed, getting up only to shit and eat (separate occasions, I assure you). Tomorrow I will be unable to avoid that list, and will probably regret this morning's choice (especially since it was partially sunny today for the first time in 100 years), but tomorrow-me will have to deal with that. Today-me couldn't deal with today so he took the day off. I read the Internet, rubbed one out a coupla times (there was nobody to walk in on me so not only did I not hide my porn in a comic book but I turned up the volume really loud), and took 3 or 4 craps for some reason.
I feel rejuvenated. Like Tuesday won't be so bad. I wonder if I have a candy bar downstairs...
