But as I lay in a heap on the couch, just about to doze off with Ranger sleeping peacefully nearby, I made the monumental mistake of opening my eyes to look out the window.
Oh my goodness. The maple tree out front has exploded into its breathtaking golden display and the glorious blue Pacific Northwest sky blazed beyond.
The vision dazzled me, and the deep, aesthetically-minded voice within began its despotic demands. This scene demanded a photo and there was no excuse but to go outside and take one.
Lazily, I rolled over and desperately tried to un-see that tree, and un-hear the sweet song of nature beckoning me to come out and take pictures.
Unflinchingly, my primitive self continued to demand sleep.
Torn, I searched for an answer to my dilemma that would not require standing up.
And miracle of miracles, one was provided.
There, on the nearby table, just a few inches from my outstretched hand, lay a camera. With a bit of rolling, leaning, and one extreme reach, I pulled it to my fingertips and sighed with relief.
Still sprawled across the couch, I turned my lens toward the window and snapped.
Inspired, I noticed my feet, pale in the autumn afternoon sunlight and contrasted by the shadowy corner.
Also not bad.
Suddenly, as I glanced around the room from my slacker's slouch, the whole room transformed. Everything looked new, fresh, and unexpected from my horizontal angle,
So I snapped some more.
Also, my fiddle leaf fig is brushing the ceiling and I can no longer deny that it's time for a pruning.
^ When standing right side up, these lights hide behind the shelf trim, but when viewed upside down, all my secrets are revealed.
* * * * *
Here's how the rest of my afternoon played out:
I took way more upside-down photos than anyone could ever possibly need.
I pondered deep and interesting thoughts about how changing one's point of view puts a whole new perspective on life.
And though I never got my nap, my boy Ranger snoozed peacefully till walk time.