It's a good thing Mom called me this morning to ask what time I was picking her up. I probably would have remembered that we had plans tonight, but there's no guarantee. I was even considering a movie this afternoon, or a hike through Howarth Park.
So I settled in for an intense day of doing nothing. Should I be packing? Probably not, since any move is at least five weeks away. But I've been thinking about it, strategizing, picturing things leaping from drawers and shelves into boxes (again).
Whatever genius at Fox decided we'd rather see the Cubs and Padres than the Giants and Pirates saved me from turning on the TV. I went about some household business while listening to the Giants game on the radio, but when the game turned sour (they were down, 7-2, a score by which they eventually lost), I hit the mute button and settled into my lounge chair by the patio door to read In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner, by Elizabeth George.
After a chapter or so, I felt my eyes closing involuntarily.
"This is pleasant," I thought to myself, in exactly those words, hence the quotation marks. "A nap."
I drifted off into a severely intense dream, of which I can remember no details, merely the sensation that I was in charge of some vaguely crucial project of unknown description and had just discovered that I was doing it absolutely wrong.
Something startled me awake, if not alert, after about an hour, but I was unable to move for several minutes. My head felt as if it had been stuffed with angry bees, and my eyes had apparently been sealed shut by uninvited faeries. (Don't you have to ask them to come in, or is that just vampires?)
This was not pleasant, although I might not have phrased it in precisely that way, incoherent as I was at the time.
Although my head never fully cleared, I soon pulled myself together and out of my chair. I puttered around the house for a while, setting one VCR to tape Big Brother, delayed until 10:00 because KPIX would be broadcasting the 49ers' latest loss, and setting the other VCR for Deep Blue Sea, a movie I probably wouldn't have watched even if I'd stayed home so why bother.
Then I settled back down and read another chapter. What use is a day off work if I can't take time to read?
Before I had a chance to fall asleep again, I had to get up and put on something appropriate for an evening at the theater. I like my new shirt.
We take our summer evenings out rather casually around here.