In which it’s Friday for most, but Saturday for me.

I slept until noon, because today is my day off. As I was slowly drifting awake, I planned my day. Here’s what happened.

Intention: Get up, pee, do yoga. Make tea. Make the bed. Dress. Sit and meditate. Sort the laundry. Then have a spa day, complete with mud mask and foot soak. Shave and moisturize. Put on a cute but comffy outfit, and maybe some mascara. Be mindful and grateful and inwardly full in a tidy apartment while looking clean and soft and cute.

Actuality: Get up, pee. Make and drink a latte. (So far, so good!)

Eat cold, leftover curry out of the pan in front of the laptop looking at meaningless shit on the internet. (Um, need to meditate here in a bit.) Put the dishes away and take some broth out of the freezer. (Yes. So domestic!) Sit on ass in front of Facebook.

Let the UPS guy into the building. Sit on ass in front of Facebook. Chat with Embo about zits, burritos, and baking soda online. Move a box that needs to ship, but don’t actually tape it shut or put an address on it or anything. Realize it’s already starting to get dark and you haven’t even made the bed.

Pour a cocktail, because fuck it. Turn on the tee-vee and find an old movie station; marvel at the red lipstick and wish you had lips. Sit on ass in front of Facebook. Wonder if Scott will be able to pick the truck up from the shop tonight so you can get him to take you out to dinner or, even better, go get carry-out, so you won’t have to cook. Sit on ass in front of Facebook.

Consider the things you could have accomplished, shrug, and smile, because you have a cute little Christmas tree, your favorite person will be home in an hour, and you have tomorrow off, too.

You can do chores when you’re dead.