To Be or Not to Be a Slob?

I woke early in my comfortable bed. 

'I'll have a slob day today,' I said. 

I thought, with no-one else to feed,

I'd bring my coffee and something to read

back to the cot, and snuggle in

as we used to do together, me and him

on rainy, overcast days like this

when we stayed all day to snooze and kiss

and talk and cuddle and read and eat –

usually joined by at least one cat.

I didn't, though. Perhaps I was hesitant

to try it alone? Yes of course reluctant –

but still, I thought, I could simply pretend

all that companionship didn't end.

I know the flavour of him so fully

and the cats' too. I could recreate, surely,

the warmth and comfort we used to share

when all of them were with me here!

Instead I dwelt on the sweet expectation

of how it could be: day-long anticipation.

I didn't get dressed, though I nearly did.

'Be sensible!' I admonished me. But then I decided  

at least to stay in my warm pj's,

at least to have that much of a laze.

And all day long it was such pleasure

to imagine myself reclining at leisure,

not missing my dears in sad grieving

but feeling them near as if they were living.

I cooked and I cleaned and I used my device

while my thoughts of my bed were increasingly nice.

But would I, but could I? First yes, then no,

chopping and changing, not going with the flow,

until at last it was 4pm.

If it would happen, this was high time!

So here I am, with iPad and biscuit,

lying back on high pillows, no more Ms Fixit

but Ms Relaxed. And yes, it feels good.

My darlings, I know, would be here if they could 

but as they are not, I summon them in thought.

Now for hot soup and a cosy night!

For Poets United's Midweek Motif: Choice