There must be a word for that

Here's a little thing I wrote awhile back. I don't know exactly what to call it.

It's just a little reflection on something small in life. Mostly, I wanted it to be

entertaining, but I'm not sure it accomplishes that. Anyway, enjoy!

We were playing casino, our favorite two-person card game; Marian and I. Leo was asleep in his crib. The two half jars of winter squash applesauce mixed with oatmeal were sure to soothe him, and his comfy footed pajamas would lull him into nightlong dreams of warm hugs and friendly, soft giraffes. Jack had fallen asleep on the couch watching musicians play their acoustic instruments on television. Their songs were like old barnwood and corn in the crib, and after struggling up ladders and zipping down slides at the park; after eating a supper of sauerkraut pork roast with carrots, fruit cocktail in a coffee cup, and two hot rolls with butter and honey washed down with milk; after he was scrubbed in a warm bath in the kitchen sink and he had pulled on his red and blue pajamas, the ones with a yellow neck band and little steam engines with smiling faces, the dark living room and warm acoustic music pulled his eyelids closed. I carried him in to tuck him into his bed.

Marian and I continued our game to its conclusion. A conclusion that was most dissatisfying to us both: a draw! At least there were no losers in the match. Since it was getting late our eyes were getting that scratchy feeling like sand in our eyes because we were tired. Marian laid her head down on the table. I suggested she go on to bed. She moaned that she couldn't, she still had to brush her teeth. "But, I thought you did that earlier, right after I carried number one to bed."

"No," she lamented, "I wish I would have," and added, "and I wish I would have put on my pajamas, too".

I thought there must be a word for that: that feeling of regret a person experiences when they realize they should have taken advantage of brushing their teeth and putting on their bedclothes earlier in the evening, before they become sleepy tired. So, when that moment of wanting to get in bed and go on to sleep arrives, all that must be done is to extinguish any candles and lights, look in on the sleeping babes, then slide in and curl up beneath the covers.

I'm not one for living with regret. Sometimes, though, I feel the burden of making that trek to the restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth when I have nodded off while reading in my chair in the living room. It's a routine sure to awaken me and cause me again to become alert and not at all sleepy and ready for bed like I was in the chair with the book in my lap.

What's the word for a small missed opportunity? It's such a small thing: to complete a task earlier than our regularly scheduled routine; all in order to give ourselves a little bit of extra comfort and ease in the future. I don't know what that word is; the word for the regret that comes from not brushing your teeth somewhere in between your last drink and bite to eat of the night, and the time when the right combination of being tired and ready for bed arrives. I don't know what that word is, but take a tip from me: give yourself that little reward at bedtime. Brush your teeth and put on your bedclothes early. Make it a smooth transition from chair to bed. You'll be happier for it!