A Quiet Sunday Morning

It’s a Sunday morning, almost afternoon, and I am sitting on the futon with my windows wide open and a cup of fresh coffee in my hand.  The spinster pride is scattered across the window sills chittering and meowing at the birds in the trees outside.  In the distance I can hear a dog barking. 

This is a rare quiet time for me.  I have written so many times before about how busy my life is and this past week was no exception.  I do have plans today, a paper to write, this evening my performance troupe has auditions after which I am meeting a visiting friend for conversation and a drink, but the next couple of hours are mine to do with as I wish. 

Right now, I am thinking that my wish will involve a blanket, a shady spot beneath a tree, a thermos of coffee and a book. 

First though, I should probably put on pants.