And humidity under 80%.
I had such a nice day yesterday. Didn’t get much done, but that was part of what made it nice.
First of all, I overslept—which could, of course, be a disaster if there’s somewhere you have to be, but I did not have to be anywhere. For me, it was a surprising blessing.
We moved here because of noise. One of the things I particularly hated about the noise was I never got to wake up on my own time. I had quit my job, and I thought I was entitled to revert to my natural rhythms. Left to myself, I want to stay up until about 1 or 1:30 and get up around 8 or 8:30. I had the staying up part down, but big crashes and stomps above my head were never going to let me sleep in.
So, we moved. At which point, I found myself going to bed at around 9 or 10, exhausted from all the new things required of me by the new house—by owning a house at all. And I was waking up by 6, if not at 3 or 4.
In an odd, inverted way, it reminded me of this little stanza by Edna St. Vincent Millay:
Grown-up
Was it for this I uttered prayers,
And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,
That now, domestic as a plate,
I should retire at half-past eight?
All of that is kind of beside the point, however, which is that I overslept today for the first time in years.
That put me a little bit behind, but I got my workout in. I used my new nut catcher to round up some sweet gum balls, and I used some Round-up to—I hope—discourage the sweet gum seedling that is trying to grow up in the middle of my labyrinth.
And then, I did nothing.
I just decided to put aside the multiplicity of imperatives that are usually buzzing around my head and only do things I enjoy and that I wanted to do.
I read a book.
Then, I realized that the weather was gorgeous, and I took my book out on the dock. The sun was shining. The breeze was blowing. The humidity had dropped to around 70%—which is low for here.
I realized that almost all of the days I like to revisit in my memory have been days like this. A Girl Scout camping trip to Cape Henlopen. An afternoon in a hillside cemetery in Nevada. A Connecticut meadow. A cookout in Indian River involving a 50’s style motel, a swimming pool, and The Music Man on TV.
Nothing much happening.
Just sunshine and a balmy breeze.
The days when you have all the time in the world, and you hope time never comes to an end.
