There’s that saying: Sunday is a day of rest. Today I am taking it to heart, practicing it.
I have to. There–I’ve said it (publicly, at that). Alas, at 63 1/2 I am acknowledging my (physical) limits and setting up (emotional, mental) boundaries. Today I am a human BEING not doing. (This is not original, have heard it around plenty).
I have been out of my deck for hours. My partner Judy joins me to have a cup or coffee, share a piece of lemon cake (vegan, of course), converse. The dogs and cats come to check out the yard, what’s happening, get brushed. The birds sing and, if you listen closely, you can hear the tiny bit of water falling over rocks in the creek. Oops, there goes a motorcycle! Can’t really blame them on a Sunday afternoon on this tempting windy sort of country road.
I slept in for the second time in four days. Because I could. Because I would ….. not get sick, know I need to rest from all my activities of the past three daze. This is wisdom. So why do I have to even think about it much less write/blog about it?
Maybe it’s because I was a first-born. Maybe I am compulsed from something less than self-love. Maybe I’m just an over achiever. Maybe it’s a bit of all of the above.
No matter. Today I just may drive the one exit to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to purchase a chaise lounge. Is this middle class decadence? (We’re talking one–Judy claims she doesn’t want one, too, but we’ll see …) But that would mean leaving the homestead. I mean, the grass does need mowed so me & my Jane Deere plan to do that later … if it doesn’t rain. Meanwhile, I am physically but not mentally tired.
Thursday, Friday, & Saturday were great days–I’ll admit that. Teaching a class, doing a marathon filing party at the Ohio Lesbian Archives, doing a poetry reading downtown then seeing Annette’s house on Race, having a ‘lime in the coconut’ at Below Zero.
Today, though, I will be sentimental and follow that old saying. For Sunday is a day of rest.