Sunday, November 16, 2008
Sunday morning coming down
I woke in the middle of the night because it was too warm with the thermostat set at 68 degrees. Between the hot flashes, my naturally high body temperature at night and the vent above my bed, I was roasting even though it was below freezing outside, so I got up, turned down the thermostat, drank some water and slipped back between the sheets. I drifted off in the gathering coolness and awoke again with the horizon outside my window spread with salmon pink and a golden haze over everything feeling refreshed and comfortable and not really ready to relinquish my bed. The golden haze dimmed and the clear Colorado blue sky became more distinct, the soft blue of the moonlit landscape giving way to pink and gold and then to the bright, distinct and multi-colored hues of daytime.
There isn't much to do today, other than finishing a review book and laundry. I love lazy Sundays when reading is the main occupation. I'll take the trash out later or maybe wait until early tomorrow morning before the garbage men come so I don't have to get dressed. Then again, I might make the coconut cream pie I've been eyeing for a while. I have all the ingredients and something about eating silky smooth coconut cream fragrant with fresh coconut while reading a good book is enticing. I might settle for a bowl of coconut cream pudding instead while wishing for fresh warm strawberries still tasting of sunshine and spring.
On Sundays I indulge my senses, take it slow and savor the peace and silence before the onslaught of Monday morning rush and bustle. Yesterday was full of chores and activity. I even mended my favorite t-shirt where time and wear and washing have taken a toll on the beautiful hand painted flower centered on the black fabric. I probably should have relegated the shirt to the rag bag but I'd miss the soft feel of the well worn fabric slipping along my skin. Just when something begins to feel really comfortable it shows its age, first with tiny holes and then when rips and tears. I have another such shirt on this morning, a big baggy purple t-shirt with tiny holes sprouting in odd places, forming communities and getting ready to become tears. I don't know if I'll mend this one or toss it in the rag bag or simply let it disintegrate slowly. It's not as revealing as the other t-shirt with its splits across my chest, revealing glimpses of skin and the tantalizing hint of colored lace, but the die is cast and it will one day be just as riddled with rips and tears.
Until then, there will be many Sunday mornings and Saturdays doing chores where I'll wear one or the other as I move through the weekend between work and rest, reading and cleaning, baking and enjoying a few morsels of indulgence like today.
That is all. Disperse.