Earlier, I had an overwhelming desire to ramble about my peaceful weekend, and it turned into a book/film report. Let me try this again.
I seem to have lost my ability to Sleep In past a certain time of morning. This includes weekends, and even days that I am sick. Part of this is that I have, in the past year, become a Morning Person. When I’m in my stride, my daily workouts take place at 5:00 during the week, which gives me time to then have a good hot shower and enjoy the early stillness and accomplish things at home before I start a work day. I am not complaining. However, this past weekend, it was both, well, a weekend, AND I was sick. And I still couldn’t sleep past 8:00 on Saturday. Ah well, so it goes. I’m not complaining overmuch, it affords me more time to do things. Or to not do things. Or both. 8:00 a.m. arrived on Saturday, and I was wide awake. Oh, what the heck, I thought to myself, I’ll bloody get up. Arise, I did, and greeted the day from my 7th floor balcony.
I then proceeded to walk the dog, and then drive to the bank and the grocery store, all before my husband ever woke up. Then, because I was still not feeling well and thus was worn out from my burst of morning energy, I lazed about awhile, and then cleaned up properly so that I could go get a haircut. My hair lady, N, called with a crazy schedule and my appointment got pushed back by 30 minutes. So, I stuck my nose in the book that I couldn’t put down, and proceeded to have to haul tookas on foot in order to get there in time because suddenly, 40 minutes felt like 5. Ooops!
On the way there, I was reminded once again of Sidewalk Etiquette. I’ve noticed that people tend to walk on the same side of the path that one would drive on, ie: the right side. It’s like some sort of unspoken pedestrian code. However, sometimes you get those people who are “walking on the wrong side of the lane,” as it were, and they look at you like you’re the devil incarnate for refusing to veer into the other theoretical lane. Worse than that are the groups of 2 or more, who refuse to change their formation to a single-file line, and manage to run you off the sidewalk and into a shrubbery when they pass you by. On a more humorous note, however, the days following a snow, when the sidewalks are dry with multiple patches of ice, are amusing. No one wants to walk on the icy stuff, and will step around the ice patches to stay on the dry parts. To an outside observer, I imagine it looks like we are all roaming around the neighborhood like a bunch of veering, staggering drunkards.
It’s funny how, when you cut your hair short, you suddenly notice how quickly it grows. It’s also funny how your definition of “long hair” changes. I was so shaggy, it was driving me mad. Fortunately, N got me cleaned up and now, all is right with the hairz world. I love having a Hair Lady. It’s an interesting relationship, and a rewarding one.
Sunday rang in with a similar start. My eyes opened at around 7:30 a.m. and I forced myself to Just Lie There until around 8:00. Then I was up, again. I was blissfully aware that I didn’t have to go anywhere that day, and that the only thing on my plate later was some household tidying once J woke up. So I arose once more, and leisurely concocted some Earl Grey.
I realized I had Free Time in which to Do Nothing. O joyous morn! So I curled up on the couch with my tea, the dog napping on the floor next to me, reveling in the silence of no television or music or rowdy neighbors. A couple of sirens went by, 7 floors below, but that is par for the course and I hardly notice them anymore. I did however, pleasantly notice the chirping birds, and the windchimes from the neighbor’s balcony. And then I picked up the book I couldn’t put down, and read and read and read. (And, obviously, took photos, which I also find relaxing.)
I proceeded to read throughout the rest of the day, with this certain feeling of dread that I was soon to finish that durned book. I didn’t want it to end. But, finish, I did, sometime that evening, in and around the aforementioned housecleaning and a lot of laughing and joking with my husband.
We rounded out the day together watching the playoff games. And wondered just when it was that we became Football Fans. Neither one of us really ever grew up actively following football. For me, it was always a background sound on holidays when my dad and uncles or grandparents or neighbors, etc., had it on. To this day, the sound of a football game just feels cozy to me, or homey, or familial. It wasn’t until 2008 that we started paying attention. And that was only because we had, at that time, unspokenly agreed to Someday Move to New Orleans Because We Both Love It So Much, and thus got curious about the Saints. That led to us adoring the Saints. Which led to us watching every single game that we could get out here in Colorado (don’t get me started on that). And then that magical Superbowl happened. And we’re still watching. I was bummed that they lost their playoff against the 49ers the other weekend, but they dun good, and I can’t wait for next season. Next season, we’ll be there. Next season, I’ll have my first experience of a Saints game in the Superdome. I never, ever thought that I would be so excited for something like that. But I am. And hey, NOLA’s hosting the Superbowl next year. Feels like good mojo, to me. It was humorous though, last night, watching these playoff games that were NOT “our team” and still feeling incapable of changing the channel, simply because we both wanted to know what was going on. And it was entertaining, and fun to watch. I think part of my decreased agitation towards the sport is that, through many early muddled watchings of televised Saints games, I finally came to understand it. I know what’s going on now. Who’da Thunkit?
Now we have a fun Superbowl party to look forward to, and it doesn’t matter who is playing. It will be exciting, regardless.