Time

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I get a little giddy over long weekends. The gift of an extra “free” 24 hours is just enough to make me dance. Granted, I can’t dance, and I have no rhythm, so it’s a bit pathetic, but I did want you to truly understand my joy.

It’s not that I had any big plans for last weekend. It’s not that I was really anticipating anything grand, but the whole idea of having some extra time away from the “grind”, well, it was exciting.

You’d think I’d turn that excitement into something marvelous. Perhaps build shelters for the homeless, contemplate the meaning of “Dirty Dancing”, find world peace or bake a cake. I didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, I hung out. Yep, I’ve perfected it. I hung out by myself on Friday. On Saturday we hung out with Cynical’s folks. That night we hung out over dinner and movies with my brother. On Sunday we simply hung out at home. On Saturday I did venture to Kroger, where we hung out a bit before going to my folks where we hung out some more. And that night. . . well, you guessed it, I hung out.

I accomplished nothing, unless you count a few loads of laundry, clearing some well done flowering plants from our yard, and cooking every vegetable I could think of or knitting about 40 percent of a would-be sweater.

That’s the glory of extra time, right? More time to hang out, uninterrupted, free from pressures. And we seized every moment.

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