Last Saturday

What do you do on days like this? Dull, chilly sunlight and quiet blue skies. Maybe knit a few more rows on that woolly pink scarf while watching that last bit of Law and Order you slept through last night. Maybe you walk your dog to the coffee shop for a latte and some girl talk. Take in some rays and gossip. Get a runny nose and windburn. Recite frantic and optimistic “to do” items that won’t get crossed off the list today: fold laundry, finish homework. Do dishes. Those heroic non sequiturs that have become dangerously ingrained in decision making. “We’ll get it to fit together somehow,” you say to the dog. She knows we won’t. Lazily make a beautiful lunch and eat it yawning bite by yawning bite. Take a nap in the nude with the baseball game on. A moment before sweet sleep to snuggle in and feel the delicious fibers of the down comforter on every inch of yourself and then dream of unrequited distant love for a stranger. And you end up doing all of the above. Because it was Saturday and you were feeling happy and alone. Because it was a terrific day for doing all those things.