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.