I'm on the first full day of my four day weekend. It's viciously hot and humid outside, but I'm lounging in climate-controlled comfort (78º in the living room, 74º in the bedroom), watching my Cubs play that team whose name I dare not speak. All my appliances work, my refrigerator is stocked, my bills are paid, my beloved Greg Maddux is on the mound and (right now, at least) he's winning. This is holiday is off to a much, much better start than (shudder) Memorial Day.
Beyond today, I don't have any big plans for the weekend. This afternoon/evening (after the game, of course), I'm going to see The Devil Wears Prada with my friend Harold and (perhaps) the oft-unreliable Gregory. Then Harold and I are off to dinner at Papa Milano's. (Did I remember to make a reservation?) This is all in celebration of H's birthday, and we always have a good time. The Taste of Chicago is this weekend and I may end up over there. I may have a playdate with my young nephew Nick. Or perhaps I'll hibernate. Hibernating is good.
As I get older, I want to DO less and less on my days off. I am more and more content to relax by myself. Go through that foot-high stack of magazines on the floor next to my coffee table. Open the door to the den (it's scary in there!) and put aside books for the Friends of the Oak Park Public Library Book Fair. Touch up my hair.
I have friends I can call if I get stir crazy. God bless them. But I see this weekend being quiet and content.
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