When I left the house this morning, I had every intention of going to the bank and on to the supermarket, for the first time in a week and a half. About halfway to the post office, though, I just lost steam, and after picking up the mail I came straight home. It wasnít time; I had plenty of time. It wasnít the weather; it wasnít especially cold, and there was no rain, although the sky was plenty gloomy.
Itís not that I couldnít use the groceries. Iíve been eating the same leftovers for the last ten days (and thank goodness for refrigeration), and I still have enough leftover pulled chicken (a recipe I probably wonít try again) and leftover meatloaf (made, in a fit of creative madness, with apricot jam instead of catsup, another thing I wonít do again, although it wasnít inedible, just a somewhat misguided attempt at variety) for at least one more meal each. I still have bread and eggs, so Iím in pretty good shape. I could use a head of romaine and some bananas.
There wasnít even that much work to get back to. Wednesday is my day between intense days, and I use it to catch up on tasks that Iíve been letting slip by. I had a few things I could do, but they had no particular urgency. I came home from the post office and didnít do them right away, puttering around with non-critical filing and the like for awhile before getting down to the pile of papers on the corner of my desk.
I even found some time to sit and read this afternoon. Iím really into Liseyís Story now, a little more than a third of the way into it (not that I count pages or anything). I got the new Maeve Binchy book in the mail today, and Iím eager to get into that and the new Ray Bradbury, so Iím trying to find more time to read. I found a little of that kind of time today, along with a little time to sleep. Somehow I worked two short naps into my afternoon. I could stand more days like this.