It’s nice having a place to laze–a place like, for instance, my new back porch. I can hear and feel the wind through the trees, I can smell the fresh basil growing in a big pot hanging from the railing, I am comfortably out of the direct (and very hot) sun–I couldn’t ask for anything more, unless it was a beach right there in my backyard.
I have done nothing today–a monumental amount of nothing. I haven’t even eaten a proper meal yet–and it feels fantastic. So far my accomplishments are as follows: drink obscene amounts of chicory coffee brewed by someone else; learn how to utilize gadgets I didn’t know I had on my computer (including video chat–quite odd to be sitting across the porch from my roommate and hear his voice coming out of my computer at the same time); eat several extremely buttery and gooey crescent rolls, also prepared by someone else; attempt to talk my father out of depression unsuccessfully; field a brief but redundant phone call from my sister; drink half a gallon of water; contemplate lunch (though I have not gotten to the point of executing said comestible project).
I’ve watched my roommate be all sorts of productive–he’s rigging up some sort of crazy LED light system that’s going to send beams of radiant colors into the neighbor’s yard, or into ours if we turn the head of the thing. There’s talk of drilling a hole through the outside wall of the house, so he can run the power supply from inside. By the time he’s done, we may well live in a rainbow-colored space ship. Though the project is fascinating, I haven’t helped because I’m lazy–but thankfully, I can make the excuse that I’m completely ignorant when it comes to electrical wiring, which is just as true as the fact that I’m lazy. I’d be the one who’d set the house on fire before the hole had even been drilled through the wall.
In a couple of hours I have to go to work, where I’ll most likely do a whole lot more of nothing. It is, after all, Sunday–and that’s what Sundays are for, right? Maybe I can convince my ultra-driven roommates that the next project we should undertake is to build us a beach in the back yard. We’d need the downstairs neighbors’ consent, but the landlord is never around, and I’m sure we could scare up a couple of chaise lounges and a truckload of sand–there’s even a bulldozer parked conveniently up the street, unattended…