I use to love Friday night’s best. Friday nights meant liquor. All types of liquor. Sweet liquor. Sour beers. Flat wines. I still love Friday nights. I like going outside and seeing humanity. I like going to Jazz bars and watching musicians and talking to people who don’t stare at screens all day. I love being at the comedy club and watching my senior comedians drink and drink and drink and rewrite their comedy notes. I love it. I live for it. One drink in my carb free stomach and I walk funny. It is it’s own comedy routine.

Now, though, I live for Sunday mornings. I live to do nothing. No alarms going off, no calendars popping up. A morning full of nothing. I refuse to run errands-I’ll pack that in to an already crowded Monday. I will not be that person at the grocery store getting run over by a woman with a triple wide stroller.

I just want to lay in bed until the afternoon when some sporting events will automatically matriculate to my screen. I like remember what my bed feels like. I like knowing that my coffee doesn’t have to be in a travel mug. Don’t get me wrong- I love my life. I love being busy. I thrive on it. If I have nothing to do for too long, I get nervous. I will find something-but those hours on Sunday morning, before it turns to night, are precious.

Here’s to doing nothing.