This weekend the weather turned cool for a few days and suddenly I wanted to do all the things. I got out of bed so excited on Friday. So excited about a whole day of drizzly rain. Rain and rain and rain (and not the sort like in Houston, to threaten your life and home). And cool enough to put on a sweatshirt–one with a hood, of course. And then I made a list of all the things I wanted to do in the cool weather and rain. Make soup. Bake bread. Make chicken broth. Drink an IPA (isn’t an IPA better in cool weather?). Knit. Open the windows to hear the rain.
And then, you know the way things go. In no time at all, I was feeling anxious, trying to fit everything in. Running out of time because on Monday, work starts up again for me.
That’s the way it goes. Did I enjoy my rainy day? Who knows? But that night, we had some drinks with friends and went to see some music at the Red Bicycle. And that part I remember, because then we just sat and talked. We just sat and listened. There was nothing else that needed to be fit in. There was nothing else that needed to be done.
The other day, I got out of bed after my husband and saw his phone sitting on the bedside table. Oh, I’ll take it to him, I thought. Then it occurred to me that he didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. That his morning was okay without his phone. So I’ve been trying to spend more time in rooms without my phone. I’ve been leaving it places on purpose. I’ve been trying to pick up something else when the urge hits–my knitting, a book, dirty dishes, a pen, nothing. I’m trying to recover life before my iPhone. I’m trying to spend more time in this world.