I wake this morning to the buzz of fan in the window, cars on the street outside, fresh air clean and new breezing in to start a new week. I roll over, tightly under sheet and blanket, comfortable and sleepy.
Monday again, with its too-long list of things that simply must be done, underlined and highlighted by the mess on the table, mess on the living room floor, mess on the counters in the kitchen.
I type out the list, send it to my sister for some accountability, listen to a truck beeping its back-up down the street. Through the curtain on the wall across from this blue chair I can see fine blue sky. I hope my day has time in it for being out there in this glorious sunshine. We have been trapped by heat and humidity and wet for too long.
Monday feels better, I think, on a beautiful day, when I can fling open curtains and windows and turn up music and sing while I scrub. My list grows longer.
Right now, though, I revel in the noisy quiet of Monday morning– passing traffic, children stirring upstairs, insects buzzing a joyful noise, birds joining in, my computer quietly signaling a new message from my husband.
Maybe I’ll make oatmeal for breakfast.