Saturday Morning

By the time Friday evening rolls around, I think there is a consensus of relief. Every one made it through another work and school week, and is looking forward to the weekend to recoup and relax. Friday evenings have a luxurious feeling of an ocean of time, where the next Monday seems very far away. Sleeping in is another luxury. Ah, Saturday morning. The glorious feeling that time is yours for a couple of days. However, there are certain Saturdays that are tinged with a certain unease, a certain nagging at the sleeve of our pajamas that makes us sigh, go ahead and take that early shower any way, and get some chores done. The end of winter approaches, the air is warmer during the afternoons, windows and doors are opened to let in fresh, clean air, and all of a sudden, dust bunnies are showing up everywhere the playful sun feels like shaming the house with. All right, all right,let's do this, I'm thinking. The sky is turquoise blue, the sun is warm, the birds are singing, the garden is calling for a major cleanup, so what the hell am I dusting my house for, cleaning out cupboards and closets? I guess now that the windows are washed, I might as well add a touch of fresh air to the innards of the house , too. But I just want to be outside! Humans sure are labor intensive and quite stupid. What is with all this stuff we keep around? I want to be a cat in a next life, or a squirrel. No need to keep much stuff around, no wasting time on a beautiful day doing mind numbing stuff like washing and dusting, no need to still have to brush and floss, and put on pajamas before going to bed. What a bunch of tedious, boring routines. Saturday morning always temporarily gets me down, when I realize there's no escaping, apart from being a wealthy lady with a household staff, the monotony of the repetitive household chores. The idea of being a nomad has always had appeal to me. I always got excited when the gypsies, the Romani would pass through our town. They were allowed to stay 48 hours by law, and would camp out by the railroad tracks. I realize that packing up, and moving around a lot has its tedious parts, too. But, at least the scenery is different each time. That would be refreshing. And I get the feeling that it would be hard to become too attached to your stuff if you're always packing it up. I think it would make you very philosophical about earthly possessions and their permanence. So, on Saturday mornings, I often wish I was a gypsy, feeling the fresh air in my face en route somewhere, rather than getting all worked up about cleaning house. Again. Too much stuff, giving me visions of a giant garage sale, where everything is free. With a thank you note stuck to every redundant item ,saying "Thank you for making some breathing room in my soul today."