There are Sundays when I donít even put my shoes on, much less venture out into the wild world. I know itís borderline ridiculous to live in a garden spot like the North Bay and stay indoors all day on my day off, but itís my modest protest against the pressures and tensions of the work week. It keeps me a little bit sane, which is why I treasure my solitary Sundays so.
Not yesterday, though. Because Iíd promised to look after Jetson while Suzanne is away for the weekend, I was forced out of the house in the middle of the afternoon. Well, thatís okay. The cat didnít much care whether I showed up or not, but Iím sure he was happy later on to find that his food dish had been refilled. And I got a chance to watch part of the Giants game on their HD wide screen, which only makes me lust for something I canít afford.
But once I was up and out of the house, I decided there was no reason to stay in, so I spent as much time as I could stand working in the yard. Thatís right, I did about fifteen minutes of mowing. That was all I could stand, but since I consider that to be pushing myself to the limit, I can say that I didnít miss a day of exercising, even though there was no reason to walk to the post office, it being Sunday and all.