Oh glorious day!
Chilly, dark and teasing me of possible rain.
In Texas and in May these combinations are so rare that I sit with my doors open wearing a sweatshirt just to make sure I do not miss a single cold breeze.

I took a friend to the lake yesterday and we sat on the dock.  Me with my bare feet in the water.  People all around us were in good spirits.

The temperature started to drop and I refused to budge.  My friend was getting cold, and selfishly I wanted to stay and linger as long as I could.  Just enjoying the moment.

We ended up going for a drive to a part of the city I have never been.  We went down long roads with low river markers, and fields.  Streets covered in a canopy of trees.  I could have stopped every fifteen feet and gotten out to take pictures.

As it was I only stopped the car once.  A small farm, gated and barbed wired.  A small slightly run down barn exhibited a horse poking his head out in curiosity of me, as I was curious of him.  For a moment I stood and took pictures.  For a moment I stood and imagined a life there.

For a moment I was living in the small house atop the hill.  A house I imagine had a clawfoot tub. and a kitchen table of formica.

I dream so often (in waking life) of this kind of living.  That kind of house.  I want no mansion.  I want no lawn service.  I am not in need of granite counters, or marble floors.

The ironic thing about the kind of house and life I long to live is that it requires work.  I can be one of the most unmotivated people in the world when it comes to work, employment and otherwise.  I have no desire to tend a garden, or feed hens.  I barely keep catfood in my house as is.  The dogs only get fed because they are also lazy and wont go kill something.

My laundry piles up to heights that are comparable to Mt. Everest.  I lift my eyes right now away from the computer screen and dishes fill the sink...both sides.

I have dust bunnies under my bed that I would rather anthropomorphize and give them names than suck them up in my ridiculously expensive vacuum cleaner.

Why then would I envision peace in a house that required work?

Is is the same thinking as "If I buy that Suzanne Sommers thigh thinner I will be motivated to shed myself of this weight"?

I am guilty of sloth.  A deadly sin.

When I die will I be ousted for poor housekeeping?

The only time I enjoy laundry is when I hang it on a line after it has been washed.  Perhaps I should take all my dishes and bring them to the lake where I sat so peacefully yesterday.

Would feeding hens be more satisfying than pouring out Purina?

These questions may never be answered, and my dishes may never be done.  I am thankful for the daughters I have that take it upon themselves to clean.

My day off.  I sit, in a sweatshit, by an open door, enjoying the breeze and closing my eyes to the mundane duties that lay before me.

Yes, I think I would prefer to be writing about feeding hens.