The tiki torch fuel is nearly spent. The charcoal bag awaits a few more shakes over the barbecue. And I think I'll probably purchase at least one more six pack of Sam Adams Light, which has become my summer beer of choice. Alas, Labor Day weekend is upon us.
Though the skies above are overcast and small drops have fallen upon the pages of a book I'm reading for an upcoming review, I fear no washout. For the gods of forecasting have peered into the future and predicted a beautiful weekend. I look forward to a couple pleasant jogs, an obligatory mowing of the lawn, and assorted other tasks, but most of all I plan to relax.
Relaxation does not come easily to me. I tend to write lists of things I need to do -- lists that cannot be completed within the span of a long weekend much less a 24-hour day. And my vacations (when I take them) invariably are spent at home tackling honey-dos and working on my novel. Indeed, I intend to do exactly that in late September or early October, depending on when I take my allotted week. By then, it will be fall, and I'll be anticipating the winter. When should I shut off the outside faucets? I'll get to the gutters today. Jeez, do the trees conspire to drop these damn leaves over the span of five weeks?
So rather than worry about the fall and winter, I'm going to enjoy this weekend. Perhaps we'll catch one of the many crappy movies that are out right now (I hate when the popcorn is more memorable than the film!) Or simply enjoy the time off. God knows, we deserve it too!
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