Posted tagged ‘weekends’

“There’s something about the sound of a train that’s very romantic and nostalgic and hopeful.”

April 25, 2015

The house was cold this morning. I really didn’t want to get out of bed and neither did Gracie. She stood up, shook, then settled back down beside me, leaning against me. She’s into warmth. It was late, 9:20, so I dragged myself downstairs to begin the day.

My mother never woke us up on the weekends or in the summer. The older we got, the longer we slept in, but when we were young, we wanted the whole day. On summer Saturdays we’d get dressed, bolt down our cereals then take off, sometimes on our bikes and sometimes on foot. We’d cut through the woods to get to the horses in the field on Green Street. The house on the property was red, large and old. It was one of those square houses I found out much later were called federal. We’d stand by the fence, and the horses would come over and we’d pat them. My brother and I would try to feed them grass but they weren’t interested. A couple of times we climbed the fence hoping to jump on the horses and ride them. They’d take off as soon as we got close which was a good thing. I’m sure riding bareback would have lasted about a minute or two before I hit the ground.

Once in a while we’d alter our walking route and head for a different side of town, the area where the box factory, the railroad station and the red store were. Back then my town had a lot of factories for a small town: the Jones Shoe factory up town and two other factories which make chemicals, both by the railroad tracks. Those two buildings were brick, not common for buildings where I lived. Across the front of one was a black sign, but I don’t remember the name of the company though I passed it more times than I can remember because that part of the tracks was a shortcut home. All the factories were still active when I was a kid. One of my friend’s mothers worked in the shoe factory, and I remember watching the trains crossing the main road on their way to the chemical factories.

I used to love walking those tracks, none of which remain. Even now I always stop and watch trains. There is something about them which grabs my imagination.

“A wild and crazy weekend involves sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigar, reading a book.”

October 3, 2014

This morning was one of those put a mirror under her nose to see if she is still breathing mornings. I didn’t wake up until ten. My guess is it was all the errands from yesterday, the hauling in of the packages, the loads of wash with the accompanying up and down two flights of stairs and the changing of my bed. My back is no longer fit for days like yesterday. On my dance card today is switching out the screens and storm doors.

The day is dreary. It may even rain again later. I turned on the heat this morning for a short while to get rid of the dampness. The house is cozy now. The animals are in here with me while they take their morning naps. All three are quite comfortable: two are on the couch and one is on the afghan. I should live their lives.

Earlier I sprayed the red spawn. He didn’t hear me coming so he took the full brunt of the spray. He was shocked and immediately leapt, still dripping I suspect, from the deck rail to one tree then another until he alit on the big pine branch and began castigating me. He was chirping and chattering and waving his tail in indignation all the while looking right at me. He has to go. He best be packing his little bag for the move.

When I was a kid, I seldom had plans for the weekends. If the movie was good, I’d head to the matinee. If not, I might ride my bike or roller skate or just walk the tracks. Life was filled with spontaneity. Sunday was church and the family dinner but the rest of the day was mine. Sometimes the weather determined what we did. Rain in the summer was never a deterrent to playing outside, but in the winter it was far too cold to get wet. I always thought winter rain was a waste of water. It should always have been snow.

I don’t make too many weekend plans. I watch the Amazing Race with my friends, one of our traditions, and that’s it. I am back to spontaneity and maybe a bit of inertia. I’m liking my life.

“Diligence is a good thing, but taking things easy is much more restful”

July 26, 2012

The last few days were lovely, but now the air is thick with humidity. I could feel it as soon I woke up so I closed the upstairs windows, came downstairs, closed the rest of the windows and turned on the AC. I gasped when I went outside to get the papers. Gracie, a bit of a barometer herself, spent little time outside this morning. She came in quickly and collapsed on the couch in the AC. She is now deep asleep and snoring.

The older I get the more my life seems, in different ways, to get easier. When I first lived here, I didn’t even have a fan. When it was really hot, I just slept downstairs with the back door opened all night. When I bought a standing fan, I used it down here and then carried it upstairs so I’d have a breeze all night. I couldn’t sleep without it. It was just too darn hot. Finally I got a window air conditioner for my bedroom. The afternoon sun pours in there, and because it is on the third floor, it stays really hot. I used it at night all summer and many times in the afternoons if the heat felt unbearable. On those afternoons the dog and I would go upstairs in the cool air where I’d stretch out and read. The both of us usually napped. Now I just turn the thermostat and the whole house gets delightfully cool.

My lawn gets mowed every week by my landscaper’s crew. I used to mow it myself on a late afternoon or a Saturday. It is amazing how many chores and errands I used to squeeze in on a weekend when I worked. Now I don’t even enough time over the course of a seven-day week to do everything. I keep telling myself I’ll do it tomorrow. My house gets cleaned every two weeks though I do some spot cleaning in the meantime. I used to clean my house every weekend. The only chore I still consistently do is the washing but no longer do I need to iron a single thing. Wrinkles are perfectly acceptable. I do turn on the dishwasher, but most days I hand wash the few dishes I use. I look out the window as I wash and I do some of my best thinking. Most days I make my bed. It makes my bedroom look neater, but if the cats are sleeping on it, I wait, and if they sleep on the bed all afternoon, I don’t make it at all.

I make no apologies for my sloth. I earned the right to do nothing after all those years of working and getting up at 5 in the morning. My new motto is whatever makes my life easier is just fine with me.


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