It's 1:40. I'm still in my pajamas and just now finished a plate of 2 eggs over easy, 2 slices of rye toast and 4 slices of center cut (leaner) bacon. I'm on screwdriver #2 (they're small, I'm using a double old fashion glass) and 100 pages into a book I (just barely) started yesterday but have been devouring this morning. (You will love it. Lost and Found by Carloyn Parkhurst.) That's what I call vacation!
I guess it's the kind of day I crave when I'm dying for a snow day, but that doesn't play out until the second or third snow day--if then. The first of the season is usually before Christmas when I'm behind the eight ball to get ready for Christmas, and the second is after Christmas when I need to take down my tree and de-Christmafy my house. By the time the third comes around I usually waste it, glad not to have anything to do hanging over my head, without the foresight to spend it like today.
I was up early (7) and decided I'd spend the morning reading rather than pop my exercise DVD in after my first cup of coffee. I got into the book and then D called and then W called, and when I finally got into my book again, the morning was gone. What would it hurt, I wondered, if I didn't exercise and get things done today? If instead I kept reading, made a brunch drink and had that Sunday on a Monday. While I have fun things planned for most of the week, tomorrow begins all those obligations and some are not so fun (the car thing and laundry and cleaning house). Mondays are the worst day of the work week, so why not make this Monday a fun and extraordinary day?
When I finish this entry I'll make my third mini-cocktail and will get back to my book. I imagine it won't be long before I'm ready for a nap (vodka tends to do that early in the day), but suppose when I get up I'll be motivated to do a few things around here. In keeping with the vacation theme I'll probably do them still dressed in my pajamas and will not feel an iota of guilt if I reconsider and choose not to do a thing.
I'll keep you posted.
Love,
B
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