I am terrible at relaxing. I run my mind too far and wide even as I sit thinking—don't do anything. I like the idea of relaxing, and I do manage to lay on the sofa to watch some terrible something when my day has been too long and there is nothing else left in me to stay upright. But even that gets to me.
I just sat down with this exciting plate of vanilla ice cream, plain yogurt, sliced banana and toaster waffle. I took out the book I am supposedly reading and started alternating between sweet and sour bites and detangling the words that make up a page of the story I am trying to feel enthralled in. I'm not caught. My thoughts drift away to the pretty plate, the perfection of ice cream and yogurt —something I learned from my great aunts in Utica New York—and the fact my computer is only ten feet away, fully charged and I could even write a silly post about nothing.
A silly post wins.
Right now the little ones are at some national women's soccer league game with their godfather. My fifteen-year-old is in his room doing his own version of nothing and my husband is still working.
A quiet house to my self. Remarkable!
I think I will get out my knitting and try to find some cold, wet, British movie that captures my imagination. Any suggestions?