No one gets up early around here, Sunday morning, except of course me. Why is it that during the week, 8am feels like, "Oh no, I want to sleep some more, please, please, please," as I eek out the seconds lying under the doona, but on a weekend 8am feels like, "Well, I'm awake now, I might as well get up."
Why is that? I so want to sleep in, feel that feeling I used to feel when I'd luxuriate until midday, no problem.
There is a chill in the air, but the central heating has been making a whining sound for a week now when it is turned on, without me doing any thing about calling the man, so I have left it off, in consideration for my sleeping house mates.
When I check I see that it has been on all night. Oh well, I guess we should think about the planet and the energy wasted, more so than the dollars going up in, gas production, smoke.
The planet is screwed if it has to come between man and money to survive, let's face it, I think. I pour milk on my muesli and think how cute baby Bracks is on the cover of yesterday's Herald Sun. I bet you he's feeling like his world is screwed right about now.
Ah... um... er... but the world always forgives a pretty face... I digress.
Why am I freezing my arse off, then? I contemplate lighting an open fire, but since we've almost gone through a ton of fire wood and it's only July, I decide against it.
The planet. Got to think of the planet. Open fires bad. (all bets are off once the sun sets)
I love the silence of the house when every one is asleep. It is tranquil and still, just a meow from Missy at my feet.
The sun is shining, the sky is blue, I see through the glass ceiling of the atrium. My eye lids are heavy, my brow feels thick. The pungent aroma from the brewed coffee fills the kitchen; it's like breathing in chocolate, the two have the same intensity.
I hear David stir and go to the toilet. Then he appears at the door and sings me his happy sunshine morning song, dragging his feet. He goes back to bed. Third week no dope. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, he is not.
The sun goes behind a cloud. I don't want to do any thing, I think. Nothing interests me. I was going to call Tom and invite him out for breakfast. Nah, don't feel like it.
I head back to bed before Shane and Matt stir, they are on a mission to construct a sling in Matt's bedroom, which I'm keen to avoid. The accoutrement is spread through our lounge room at present. I settle on television for the afternoon.
It becomes over cast outside and the light in my bedroom seeps away.
Love lazy Sundays.
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