I like getting up first on Saturday mornings. I’m not knocking the glory of a proper lie-in, but lately bed isn’t the most comfortable place to be. At some point in the wee small hours this morning, Tia infiltrated the small space in between our pillows and happily camped there until she was overcome with love and started poking my head with her little black paws. So she was unceremoniously turfed, and I dozed for a while until my hip hurt too much and I decided to get up. Tia by this point was tucked in a small loaf position by the register, and genuflected in an enormous stretch and dashed into the great room ahead of me.
The furnace program hasn’t switched on yet so the house is about 15C, which is a bit chilly. I can’t remember where I left my slippers yesterday, so my feet and hands are ever so slightly cold and achy at the moment. The sun is just starting to come up over the horizon, a beautiful pinky band stretching over the trees in the distance.
Now my lap is full of purring cat with little cold feet.
I think what I love best about an early Saturday is the hours of potential stretching ahead of me. Somehow, when I sleep in, it feels like the day has been wasted – even if I have a nap this afternoon, somehow that seems even more decadent than sleeping in. Today I have some marking to do, and would love a walk if the weather cooperates with the promises earlier this week.
Kettle’s boiled, tea’s poured, biscuits and book await.