lazy Saturday

These days, I schedule one lazy day a week, if possible. That's one day with no particular plans, and no alarm clock.

I'm usually up at 7 anyway--if my circadian rhythm doesn't do it, the cat does--but it's nice not having to go anywhere.

A morning of Scrabble and half-hearted attempts to catch up with newsgroups, and not even showering until after lunch. That wasn't just laziness, though: there was no hot water in the morning, and no hurry after that.

Eventually, I got on a bus, intending to see about picking up some bagels and such in a little shopping area in Riverdale. Except I got on the wrong bus. The Bx20 doesn't go past those stores. When everyone else had gotten off the bus, the driver asked what stop I wanted, and I told him "the end of the line." We got there, an unprepossessing corner whose bus stop sign read "Discharge Only." He told me that was it, so I got out, picked a direction, and headed off like I knew what I was doing.

What I was doing was exploring a corner of the Bronx called Fieldston. There are signs stating that these are private streets, no parking allowed, anywhere that a car could drive in.

To go with the name, the first sidewalk I wandered along was fieldstone instead of cement. Somewhat uneven, halfway through a cold, snowy winter; I reseated one paving stone, or tried to, but it didn't quite fit. Then a stretch with no paving, just packed earth. Then asphalt, asphalt old enough to have gathered plenty of moss. Few people, no cars. It would be downright peaceful if not for the white noise of the highway, just a block away.

So, a nice bit of exercise on a clear, cold day. (And I don't think this is going to end the way last Saturday's clear, cold, wind did.)

Got a bus back, and it turned out the shops I'd been thinking of were closed anyway. But the butcher's on 231st was open, so I have a nice little roasting chicken, and some raisin scones.

I don't usually stay in bed on my days off--but I can, if I want or need to, and I need to know that.

lazy Saturday

These days, I schedule one lazy day a week, if possible. That's one day with no particular plans, and no alarm clock.

I'm usually up at 7 anyway--if my circadian rhythm doesn't do it, the cat does--but it's nice not having to go anywhere.

A morning of Scrabble and half-hearted attempts to catch up with newsgroups, and not even showering until after lunch. That wasn't just laziness, though: there was no hot water in the morning, and no hurry after that.

Eventually, I got on a bus, intending to see about picking up some bagels and such in a little shopping area in Riverdale. Except I got on the wrong bus. The Bx20 doesn't go past those stores. When everyone else had gotten off the bus, the driver asked what stop I wanted, and I told him "the end of the line." We got there, an unprepossessing corner whose bus stop sign read "Discharge Only." He told me that was it, so I got out, picked a direction, and headed off like I knew what I was doing.

What I was doing was exploring a corner of the Bronx called Fieldston. There are signs stating that these are private streets, no parking allowed, anywhere that a car could drive in.

To go with the name, the first sidewalk I wandered along was fieldstone instead of cement. Somewhat uneven, halfway through a cold, snowy winter; I reseated one paving stone, or tried to, but it didn't quite fit. Then a stretch with no paving, just packed earth. Then asphalt, asphalt old enough to have gathered plenty of moss. Few people, no cars. It would be downright peaceful if not for the white noise of the highway, just a block away.

So, a nice bit of exercise on a clear, cold day. (And I don't think this is going to end the way last Saturday's clear, cold, wind did.)

Got a bus back, and it turned out the shops I'd been thinking of were closed anyway. But the butcher's on 231st was open, so I have a nice little roasting chicken, and some raisin scones.

I don't usually stay in bed on my days off--but I can, if I want or need to, and I need to know that.