My Tiny Life, Weekend Edition

Working four days a week gives me a pleasant run of weekend.  But my body resists doing anything much on Fridays.  I laze around my small living space, contemplating chores and browsing the digital New York Times.  Periodic cups of coffee meant to inspire me to action only serve to warm my belly.

Yesterday I finally pried myself out of the house after the third text reminder from the pharmacy about an awaiting prescription.  Over two bridges and into suburbia I went.  A few errands later, I reversed course and ended back on my tiny oasis.

The afternoon still afforded time for accomplishment.  I focused on two areas:  The detritus piled  on my mother-in-law’s secretary and my desk-cum-dining-table.  Surely, I could end my lazy Friday with those two surfaces cleaned.

Now Saturday dawns.  The sweet chirp of a Delta songbird drifts through the open window.  I sit at the extended surface of the secretary’s desktop, with plenty of room for my laptop and a morning brew.  Soon I will scramble the last two fresh eggs and dine at my little table.  As the full light rises around me, I’ll pick another two tasks to accomplish on this fine Saturday in paradise. 

By and by, I will drive the backroads to the farm stand for this week’s dozen eggs, still warm, pale green and lovely.  Perhaps I will treat myself to another bunch of spring onions with their round red bulbs.  The owners, Ali and Jenn, will pause in their work to greet me.  In the sweet air of the burgeoning spring, we’ll contemplate the splendor of their garden.   Then I’ll come back home and sit in the old rocker, thinking of nothing more challenging than whether I need to water my pots and pots of cactus.

It’s the first day of the eighty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

My Zen tablescape sits atop an old table cloth which belonged to my mother and a Guatemalan runner which my son Patrick gave me.

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