Lazy days

I slept until 7:30 this morning, which for me is sleeping in. By a lot. Tomorrow I’ll be up at 4:30.

Yesterday, Saturday, was a lazy day. I did my chores in the morning: grocery shopping, putting the groceries away, washing the grapes and lettuce for easy access throughout the week, changing sheets and towels. Then we had a visitor, Uncle Kurt, who we drove around campus and went to a liesurely brunch with. We talked and talked. We had nothing we had to do afterward and so were in no hurry. It is rare that someone passes through Blacksburg, and I was delighted to spend time with our visitor and show off our little town, then drink coffee and eat breakfast foods after noon.

It was a drizzly day, and after brunch I lay down on the couch to read. And then I napped. And then I read some more. I looked at my watch, thinking I’d been on the couch for five hours, and it had only been two.

All week, when I’m at work, I am intensely focused. I talked to a coworker about that this week, how when we’re working, there’s no down time that needs to be filled. There’s no such thing as playing solitaire on the job. Every moment requires concentration, and sometimes by the end of the week my eyes have gone blurry from the effort.

So on the days I have off that I can truly have off — that I’m not running a million errands or spending all day driving people around to appointments — I allow myself do the absolute minumum if that’s what I feel like doing, even if it makes me feel useless and lazy and good for nothing. And you know what? It is deeply rejuvinating.

Today I take our daughter to a swim meet where she will swim the mile. I missed her last mile race and I can’t wait to see her swim it. I love watching her in the long races. She’s able to pace herself so steadily that her splits are within tenths of a second of each other throughout the entire 66 lengths.

Then? I have nothing else I have to do. It will be warm today, and maybe I’ll take my book out to the garden and read outside. I could use some fresh air and earth smells.

The sun is slanting through the window onto our bed, and our cat, Mrs. Tubbles, sleeps in the golden beam. Maybe I’ll be like her when we get home this afternoon.