Finally, A Sunday Being Sunday

Yesterday was pleasantly one spent doing just regular chores, under the ever watchful gaze of The Three Witches. And for that I do thank God.

Instead of wondering moment to moment whether my wife has really decided my life insurance has more appeal than Mr. Personality, because of the Sisyphean tasks she keeps creating with the dedication of Pharaoh Khufu and ingenuity of Daedalus, I actually got to enjoy some time just appreciating my recent accomplishments.

So, while Lisa toiled away indoors, cleaning the first floor, me and the Beagle Brothers spent some contemplative moments resting on the bench under the new copse by the pool.

But as I sat there, gazing at the two hawks, flying overhead in a very blue sky,

watching Claire and Honey enjoying the return of their shadier stomping grounds under The Old Man’s Cooling Canopy,

and under The Ladies throwing shade by the driveway,

I got the feeling that there was something missing.

It might have been the arrival of Lisa’s third window birdfeeder – like me, Amazon has no days off –

that got me thinking. . . more cowbells!

https://youtu.be/cVsQLlk-T0s

So, off I went searching those stores within a twenty mile radius that actually stay open on a Summer Sunday for the missing piece to complete the new pool copse area.

And I found it.

And as I sat there again with the Beagle Brothers bogarting my bench, I looked over all that I had accomplished, including at Claire and Honey, now standing honor guard in the front area,

and finally fully appreciated a Biblical reference – Genesis 2:2

“By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work.”

As the great pretender with his own genesis of creative mystical worlds, I still answer to yet a higher authority here at Casa Claire. So, I knew this day’s respite was temporary. But you take your wins as they come. And I did.

However, now it is again Mundane Monday.

I was tragically reminded of this with an early morning text exchange from my dear Bronx friend, Mike Moulton (yes, the Court Officer in the first courtroom scene in The Wise Ass) –

I wanna be like Mike . . . .

So, until we all get to be like Mike, you fine, five readers slurp down that second cuppa and join me out in the work force, grinding away – Friday is there in the not too distant shadows calling to us all like a Siren.

And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.