Some days start out bad from the outset. I woke up cold. Henry was hogging the bed. My blanket was on the floor. When I reached over for it, I slid off the bed because part of the mattress topping was just hanging out there in space beyond the mattress. The drop to the floor was slow and didn’t faze me so I got off the floor, picked up the blanket, straightened my bed, got back in it under the warmth of the blanket then I tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t. It was dark. Okay, it wasn’t dark. It was almost nine, too early for me, but I got up anyway. My house was cold.

Next, I put cream in my coffee, but it wasn’t cream. Believe me when I tell you that pumpkin eggnog and coffee are not a good combo.

My sweatshirt pocket caught on the cabinet knob. The pocket tore a bit. I just shrugged. That brings us to now. The cats and dog are upstairs napping. I am alone on the couch but am quite comfortable despite my torn sweatshirt.

When I woke up, the sun was shining. Without a breeze, 48˚ felt warm. A bit later a dark cloud appeared and spread across the sky, now totally gray, a whitish gray. It is just an ugly day, no rain predicted.

I was going to the dump, but I can wait for a few more days. I have only a single bag of trash and a few bags of newspapers and magazines. Besides, it is just the sort of day to laze around the house. I am going to hang the new spawn of Satan feeder I bought. It is a plastic horse’s head which will hang just above the deck rail so the spawn can reach it. I have to put peanut butter inside the head to hold seeds. If I’ve done it all correctly, the spawn will sit on the deck with its own head inside the horse’s head and will move it around to get at the seed. I need a bit of humor, and I figure the spawns owe me.

Today is a lovely, warm day. While I was out on the deck, Henry ran the yard, and I noticed the empty bird feeder swaying from a high tree branch above my head. It was the same feeder the spawn raided the other day. I watched its acrobatic moves from the deck rail to the feeders. I gave the squirrel an 8, a lower score because the jump wasn’t difficult. I have a wired feeder to replace the one the spawns visit.

When I was a kid, there was no better day than Saturday. All morning I got to watch my shows. I’d sit on the floor in front of the TV with my bowl in hand and munch Rice Krispies. In good weather, I’d head out the door after breakfast. My mother would always ask where I was going. I never had a specific answer. I always said, “Just out.” She was fine with that.

In winter I’d walk up town to the movie theater, to the matinee. Most times the movie was an old one preceded by a cartoon and coming attractions, but the movie didn’t really matter. What did matter was being there in the crowded theater dodging candy missiles, eating the longest lasting candy I could buy and sitting surrounded by my friends. The only movie I remember seeing is The Wizard of Oz. I swear the entire audience gasped when the movie turned to color over the rainbow.

In Ghana, I often went to town on Saturdays, especially on market days. I loved wandering the busy market in the early mornings. I bought meat, eggs, tomatoes, onions and sometimes bread, sweet, unsliced bread. Once in a while I’d find a surprise like the watermelon. I carried my stringed shepherd’s bag which stretched to hold just about everything, even the watermelon.

When I was teaching, Saturday was my sacrosanct day, a day for me. I didn’t do school work, no preparing lessons and no correcting. Everything was left for Sunday.

I joke and tell people every day is Saturday for me. It really is but without the Rice Krispies and a matinee.