Since my early teenage years, I have had a fond appreciation of sleeping in. I love to sleep in. Anyone who has ever lived with me knows this.
The other day, I was discussing sleeping habits with two of my friends. I proclaimed my love for sleeping in. One friend agreed with me, and the other proudly stated that she loved to get up early (blah!), and even worse, go running (double Blah!). I reiterated the fact that I hated getting up any earlier than I have to. To which my fellow sleeper explained to the other, that sleeping in for me was probably seven o'clock. I agreed that this was true. And then I stared blankly at the table and wondered what has happened to me. How is seven o'clock in the morning- an hour I once considered not meant for man's eyes- now sleeping in for me? I am living a lie.