I’ve been up since seven, watching the effect the slowly burning off fog has made on my living room walls. Watching them lighten from dark, mossy green, to a tan the color of coffee with a splash too much milk. I love the mornings. Love the quiet, the feeling that the day is an open mind, ready for anything and judging of nothing. The possibilities are innumerable, and the thought of what I *could* do is what gets me out of bed every weekend morning, often before the coveted eight hours of sleep have passed.
Some Saturdays I spend my mornings lazing on the couch, relishing the freedom that the first day of the weekend brings – a delicious contrast to the five previous days of enforced structure. I spend most of the day compiling a mental list of what I could or should accomplish over the weekend. By four p.m. I’ve usually done nothing, save for a few trips to the kitchen and the repeated opening and closing of the laptop.
Sundays are a different story. Feeling slightly guilty for a previous day spent in lethargy, I vow to make up for it with full-on productivity. The mental list from the previous day is edited down to only what can realistically be accomplished. I prepare a ‘make ahead meal’ and feel smugly proud. I want to write the editors of Real Simple, reach through the television screen and brag to the perfect hosts on Food Network and HGTV. I heard your advice! I heeded it! I am worthy! The week’s clothes are washed, folded, put away. Sheets are stripped from the bed to be replaced later as crisper, fresher versions of their former selves. Towels are taken down rumpled and slightly damp. In a couple hours they return to their rightful places, resting neatly at attention, warm and fluffy and ready for their next embrace. As the sun slowly fades and the living room walls darken back to mossy green, order is restored to our little home. It’s an ordinary weekend, like so many others before and so many yet to come. But it’s extraordinary, really. Routine and possibility.
Tags: home, introspection
That response was meant for your last post!
I believe that Crayola even retired the “Burnt Sienna” crayon a few years ago. Apparently it was only used in the boxes they shipped to Austin.