One day when I was sleeping, something rather amusing happened.

My body was still resting, but my mind had already begun its daily duty. Even before opening my eyes, thoughts started rushing in one after another.

“Get up… get up… there is so much to do.”

The vessels in the sink must be waiting.

The floor probably needs sweeping.

Tomorrow’s lesson for school has to be prepared.

While still lying on the bed, I could almost see the whole day lining up before me like a long list of responsibilities.

Both my body and mind felt terribly tired. Slowly another thought slipped in.

“Maybe I should take a casual leave today.”

At that moment, it sounded like a very sensible idea. When the head is aching and the body refuses to cooperate, a day of rest seems almost necessary.

But the mind never stops with just one idea. Even while I remained comfortably on the bed, it began planning the entire morning.

“First get up slowly. Make something simple for breakfast—maybe upma, or idli with chutney. Nothing complicated. After that, I can lie down again for a while.”

For a moment, the plan seemed perfectly reasonable.

But then another worry appeared.

“With this head-breaking headache, how am I going to ride my Jupiter to school?”

Immediately my mind pictured the busy roads, the traffic, the horns, and the effort of riding through all that while feeling so tired.

And before that thought settled, yet another one entered.

“What about those noisy boys in class?”

Every teacher knows that special group of boys who seem to have unlimited energy and very little interest in silence.

“How will I manage them today with this headache?” I wondered.

So there I was—still lying peacefully in bed—while my mind had already travelled through the kitchen, the roads, and the classroom.

Finally, I slowly opened my eyes and looked around the room.

Something felt slightly different.

The light was not the bright sharp light of early morning. It was softer… calmer.

And then the truth quietly revealed itself.

It was not five in the morning.

It was five in the evening.

At that moment, a deep wave of relief spread through me. All the worries—the vessels, the cooking, the traffic, the noisy boys—simply disappeared.

I lay there thinking with a quiet smile,

“Ah… all that belongs to tomorrow.”

And in that peaceful moment I realized something simple:

Sometimes the greatest relief in life is discovering that the day you were worrying about… has not even started yet.

(வ துர்காதேவி, பட்டதாரி ஆசிரியர், அரசு உயர்நிலை பள்ளி-நெசல், திருவண்ணாமலை)