Eyes Half Open
I was having a little trouble trying to figure out what I wanted to talk about this week as it’s been so quiet around our corner of the city. We’ve been in hunker-down mode, building fires in the fire place and playing the new board games the Older Boy received for his birthday. Sweetie said I should write about last weekend, as there are friends and acquaintances that might be in need of guidance in the ways of the lazy and slothful.
Veterans Day weekend was spent doing nothing—three days of nothing as a matter of fact. On Sunday, Sweetie and the boys didn’t even get out of their pj’s. Granny came over to visit Saturday and that was the extent of our excitement. We read books, played games, watched movies and cooked dinner. On Sunday, there was a pile of old papers that needed going through and a Seahawks football game on TV to watch, so we did both of those things and then just hung out until it was time to start cooking.
It was the first three days we’ve had in who knows how long, where we didn’t have a single thing we needed to do, or a place we needed to be. We just hung out in front of the fire trying to figure out who the looser was gonna be in the “Well, Somebody Needs To Go To The Store!” sweepstakes ™ (that would be me!) and helping build and paint a volcano that the Older Boy got for a birthday present.
Of course Sunday night Sweetie come down with a pretty mean cold—most likely due to all the rest and relaxation we got, but even that’s started to dissipate lately. (Unfortunately in the form of having to blow her nose every 30 seconds to try to dislodge the goop that has taken root in her sinuses.)
Why aren’t there more weekends like this? Weekends where you sit down to read the Sunday paper in a house that’s still asleep and after finishing it in silence, you decide to read the New Yorker and after reading the New Yorker, you realize that the house is still sleeping and would you believe it’s almost 10?
If you could be anywhere on earth, why would you be anywhere else?
Veterans Day weekend was spent doing nothing—three days of nothing as a matter of fact. On Sunday, Sweetie and the boys didn’t even get out of their pj’s. Granny came over to visit Saturday and that was the extent of our excitement. We read books, played games, watched movies and cooked dinner. On Sunday, there was a pile of old papers that needed going through and a Seahawks football game on TV to watch, so we did both of those things and then just hung out until it was time to start cooking.
It was the first three days we’ve had in who knows how long, where we didn’t have a single thing we needed to do, or a place we needed to be. We just hung out in front of the fire trying to figure out who the looser was gonna be in the “Well, Somebody Needs To Go To The Store!” sweepstakes ™ (that would be me!) and helping build and paint a volcano that the Older Boy got for a birthday present.
Of course Sunday night Sweetie come down with a pretty mean cold—most likely due to all the rest and relaxation we got, but even that’s started to dissipate lately. (Unfortunately in the form of having to blow her nose every 30 seconds to try to dislodge the goop that has taken root in her sinuses.)
Why aren’t there more weekends like this? Weekends where you sit down to read the Sunday paper in a house that’s still asleep and after finishing it in silence, you decide to read the New Yorker and after reading the New Yorker, you realize that the house is still sleeping and would you believe it’s almost 10?
If you could be anywhere on earth, why would you be anywhere else?
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