Andy has been on vacation for the past week and it is pretty darn awesome in every possible way. Time, time. Time to do things together that we don't always get to do for days in a row. Our schedule is pretty great during the rest of the year — at least, it works for us. He works three twelve-hour days, with about an hour or so on the bus on each end of the day. So my days at home without him are loooooong, from about 5 a.m. until 8:30 p.m. But then we get him home for four entire days of every week (and that's when I try to work). He used to work four twelves, before Amelia was born, but now he just does three. And this is pretty awesome. We've been living with this non-Monday-through-Friday schedule for so long — ten years — and we are so used to it. We rarely do any errands or shopping or chores or things like that on the weekend, when everyone else is out, and the rare times that I have had to go grocery shopping on Saturday, say, along with the rest of the world, I am totally freaked out by how much more crowded it the streets and the stores are, how much longer it takes to do anything, how hectic and an intense the energy is (to get finished, so the relaxing can begin). I love going out on the weekend just to hang out, though. I love leisurely brunches at French bakeries. Walks in the woods. Playing at the fountain. Being downtown. Shopping for silly things (not necessary things). Buying flowers. Three o'clock lunches on the sidewalk at Piazza Italia. Strolling along the city streets without a schedule. Nowhere we have to be. Nothing we have to do. Aren't those days just the best??? Wander wander. Meander, stop. I think so.
