The Long Weekend

It is a holiday weekend and, for me, it means four days without having to go to my day job. Not that I can slough off all responsibilities (referring back to that “livable house”   thing I mentioned in the previous post). But I have managed to find some precious extra hours that don’t seem to exist in typical weeks.

So each of the past three mornings have started off the same way as thousands that came before them: a hot, steamy shower and lots of coffee with plenty of french vanilla creamer in my favorite mug. (It’s enormous, keeps coffee hot for a long time, and has strawberries painted on it.) Following that, a little bit of time tending to just enough household tasks so that I don’t feel like a complete lay-about. But afterward, I have indulged in writing: journaling, blogging, and even getting back to the work-in-progress novel that I have sadly neglected for the past few weeks.

This morning, the last one before returning to reality, is no different, I am sitting in front of the keyboard with the coffee and creamer in the afore-mentioned mug to the right side. I am typing away and relishing every moment of my final day of freedom. I’ll finish up this post and the coffee at the same time. I’ll head off down the hallway and take care of the laundry that is waiting to be done. Maybe I’ll even go so far as to do the dusting…or maybe not. Then I will spend a few hours back at the keyboard where I will return to a world of words, imagined conversations between fictional characters who are struggling with the battles that I choose for them, and a place far away in space and time from where I sit.

I can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon.

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