Like the crotchety old 28-year-old I am, I tend to relish the comfort and familiarity of certain routines. This morning I woke up and felt kind of funky: I had forgotten to do something yesterday! What was it?
And then I remembered. Yesterday was the first Sunday in a month that I didn't spend some, if not a huge chunk, of the day curled up in my papasan chair with one (or both) of my cats on my lap as I read The Paris Review interviews, or Tess of the D'Urbervilles, or Joyce Carol Oates' journal.
Maybe it's the papasan chair. Maybe it's the way Layla looks at me like this when we snuggle:
But it's okay that we took a break from it yesterday. Instead, I enjoyed another favorite routine: sitting on a patio with a perfectly iced caffeinated beverage, good company, and a new issue of Vogue. And later, some delicious BBQ with friends and a kickass movie.
I think the only things we can conclude from all this is that:
a) I like to read (like, a lot)
b) that Layla is the shit, and
c) I need to watch last night's Mad Men, immediately.
What are your favorite weekend routines?