Another rainy day in paradise

I’m enjoying my dry afternoon drinking coffee too late in the afternoon, along with most of the other residents of town (the café is packed this afternoon). I’m getting to really enjoy my mundane Thursday afternoon trips into town—laundry, coffee at the bookstore, reading the weekly paper and sometimes grocery shopping if I feel up for a treat (the real grocery shopping happens on Sundays when Mandy can come along and throw around her 15% discount at the co-op).

It often seems to me that I’m the only one left who isn’t unbearably busy. There are the city folks with drinking nights and intramural sports competitions and meetings and fancy jobs and business trips; and the scientists with experiments that demand attention every 3 hours around the clock for days on end; and the farmers who have amazing endurance and self-discipline to work 12 hour days six days a week. Sometimes my mundane schedule seems a sure sign of laziness—and maybe when it comes down to it, it is—but mostly it seems to me that there’s no point in living in a beautiful place if you don’t have time to enjoy it.