It's two days before New Year's Eve and I've spent the last couple days doing absolutely nothing. This morning I slept in yet again, made tea and started re-rereading Pride and Prejudice. Actually, I started it last night in an attempt to lull my mind into sleepiness through reading complex classical English. No dice.
I love days like this, though, where there is nothing to do, nothing expected of me. Terrible thought: I have only a week until I'm back to work. Happy thought: I have a whole week of pleasant nothingness until I'm back to work.
When I was a teenager, I slept in rather epically too. Only then I had a mother who shamed me for wasting my life away in bed, and I had homework looming. Or if it was summer vacation, I had a job, babysitting, and softball to ensure I didn't throw my time away in front of the TV or sleeping.
Now I have no such restraints. I also get very little done. And I don't really care. I know I'm supposed to care. And yet I don't. Hell, even my dance school is on vacation, so I don't even have my weekly class. In many ways, my life for this past short while has resembled Smokey's. And doesn't everyone always say they want the life of a house cat? He's at my feet right now, lounging and no doubt weighing his options, all of them involving his comfort and leisure.
Today, yesterday and for a short time in the future, I am/ will be a zen house cat. Hear me meow.