For the first time in months, this weekend my husband and I have nothing that we have to be doing. This morning we did our usual weekend recce over breakfast, discussing what must be done over the next two days and both felt as if we’re somehow forgetting something vital. We’re not. Our time is our own. In my head the tumbleweed is rolling across the open prairies and you know what? It’s a nice feeling.
I have this theory that constantly being idle is actually bad for the spirit. On the other hand I can confirm that constantly having something to do is equally bad. I’m glad that we can get back to the happy medium. Today will be the normality of a trip to the pet supply shop for cat bics and blob, followed by, who knows? Maybe a trip to the beach for a ‘Mr Whippy’ from the ice cream van. Ah…normality. I like normality.