Everyday feels like a Sunday.
Somehow, the end of December brings not only Christmas & New Year, but also a few days of uninterrupted rest. Even the most seasoned of workers do take a few days off.
We've all accepted that at Christmas and its peripheral ( you know the week leading up to it and the one after it ) we can let go, and just enjoy ourselves. Diets are on hiatus, routine has dissolved and shoulders have dropped into a relaxed position.
The kids of the village are home too, for the holidays. Even though they are parents or grandparents themselves, they are still kids to their parent. Their big city armour of success often melts away once they are cocooned in the comforting aromas of mum's homemade food. Just goes to show, that childhood is a most important part of our emotional make up.
Isn't it the best when you can wake up when you feel like it, stumble into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee while perusing the inside of the biscuit tin. A tin where with each passing day it gets harder to find the right biscuit. The best ones always dissappear first!
Do you also get that feeling of giddiness, knowing that the day is yours and either you can morph on the sofa with a remote clutched in your hand or you can sleep the day away and my personal favourite, to lie on the sofa reading a gripping book?
This week I have become reacquainted with my Mary Higgins Clark collection and even though I've read them before, they are still a treasure to re-read. Even our cat has assumed a more relaxed than normal position as though she too needs a break from her usual routine of sitting on the windowsill to keep an eye on the birds.The Cinderella Murder
Yesterday afternoon, we were in our lounge, Bob tipping on his computer with Maus and I reclining on the sofa. I had my Mary Higgins Clark in my hand while she was on my lap, dreaming of chasing birds. Most content and even when I got up to get some wine, she waited until I got back, for another bout of snuggling.
The luxurious pleasures of a simpler way of life.