Saturday Morning

Saturday morning at my house . . . 

Well it depends on the season. 

Right now it goes something like this:

Hubby gets up at 5:30 and does a little computer stuff -- Facebook, emails, checking the news. After that he heads off to the YMCA for a swim. 

I snuggle in under the covers after he pats or kisses me goodbye.

Later (maybe 7:30 or 8:30) I cat-stretch my way out of bed, and head to the kitchen to make some tea. Hubby wanders in and makes himself some eggs. He offers me some. I decline. I always decline, but he always offers.

I putter on the computer. He putters on the computer. I eat some yogurt or cereal or toast or oatmeal. He gets a little snack.

We talk about plans for the day. This used to bother me -- as if I were supposed to have all kinds of monumental plans for amazing things -- but now I understand he's just curious. Will there be time for us during this Saturday? Will we get to do something together?

Later . . .  much later, our 2 college aged kids will stumble from their rooms. Hubby will comment on how they can sleep half the day away. They will respond with grunts and defensiveness. When they've had time to wake up in their own individual ways (daughter with her computer; son by brushing his teeth) we will all chat about what we want to do. What could do. What ought to get done. 

And then someone will say, "What's for lunch?" And I will realize I'm still in my jammies.

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