It feels lazy. But maybe it's because I'm not used to this level of comfort. I look around and I see a mess there and some dishes to do, but nothing I feel the need to run from. Nothing to get in the way of this lazy comfortable feeling. Now I worry about how often I text my parents and this knot in my neck that can more than likely be solved by adding a pillow or two to the bed. I've become closer to people who matter and let go of relationships that made me angry or just went nowhere. It's a life with options. Options like laying in bed all day and doing laundry tomorrow.