"After some rough, knockout years with my mom, we grew close and when she died, I loved her very much. I didn’t, however, cry when she died (or for my father, for that matter) and don’t understand why. Perhaps because of youthful choices not to be my mother. But my mom was bedridden for the last four years of her life. She was a great sport about it. But now, whenever I find myself sleeping until eight o’clock AM or stretching out on my couch to answer emails or read the paper … I panic. Am I turning to sedentary sludge? Am I steps away from being bedridden?" [wowOwow]

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