I’ve followed the same routine Saturday mornings for as long as I can remember. I awake about the same time as a workday. I sit in my chair by the window, and drinking unhealthy quantities of chicory coffee, I read the paper. If there’s something productive on my weekend agenda, it can wait for Sunday.
Every decade or so, I change up my routine. Around ten or eleven, I used to get up to run massive miles. Nowadays, certainly since October, I stay in my chair by the window the entire day. I don’t shower or shave. Short of a national emergency, I don’t dress out of my pajama pants. Nowadays, I continue reading throughout the day.
After I finished my paper today, I bored into my latest pulp fiction. Well, not exactly the latest – Darwin’s Radio is twenty years old. A biotech thriller by Greg Bear, given to me earlier in the week by my friend Wendy. Good read.
I stood up at some point in the early afternoon to discover it was snowing, so I let the dogs out to play. They caught the falling snow on their tongues like Snoopy in a Charlie Brown cartoon and they played hard. I sat back down in my chair by the window and dragged another chair across the hardwood to serve as an ottoman for my feet. And I finished my book.
Saturdays are good.