pinch of this, touch of that

This weekend I reversed an old trend and got up by eight or nine o'clock each morning.

It made the days seem longer -- delightfully so; most of my weekends whiz by without giving me any sense of restoration -- and I had plenty of time to clean up the house and potter around in the kitchen, and still have lots of time to sit around doing wonderful nothing -- which has the most curative force for the stress-strung soul I've ever experienced.

At a yard sale on Friday night (I was on my way to pick up dinner for me and Meg, saw an old chest with its lid up in a yard, and basically slammed on the brakes -- there's no hope for me) I purchased a box of ceramic tiles for two dollars, picked through them to find the interesting ones, and this morning (thanks to Meg's tip) stuck soft round Velcro tabs on the bottoms to turn them into coasters. Because I have no sense of proportion, I now find myself with twenty coasters -- but they're all super cool and I couldn't narrow down the collection any further, so...yup, twenty coasters, all mismatched, fun and clacky: my favorite kind of hodgepodge decor.

Landlord Larry finally came and nailed rigged screens over my windows, which, shockingly, don't look as horrible as I thought they would. He also took on the yellow jacket nest colonizing the exterior wall of the front porch (I made myself scarce -- he stood in a cloud of glowing yellow bees like some kind of woodland faerie), and, although a few got into the house, I made short work of them with a few sprays of Comet. (Yes, it works on bees and hornets too -- huzzah!)

So here I am, having had forty-eight hours of relaxation, nipping into the office to set down a few words and pin them to the ether. Yesterday broiled the world, but last night the rain tore down the curtain of heat and today has been mild and cool. I anticipate that tonight will be excellent for sound sleeping -- perhaps I can even leave the fan off in my bedroom, which blows across the foot of the bed, so that I can wake up to a furry little bedfellow piled on my feet. He hates that fan, and my feet have missed him...and my dreams go softly with a nearby Simon.

Time to go home, vacuum dead bees off the carpet, and wipe cloudy dried Comet off the windowpanes. Then it's an exciting solitaire tournament, followed by a breathless bout of dish washing, then an awe-inspiring round of pillow-propped book reading before blazing across the finish line of the light switch heralding the prize of good night.