Summer day

On the 5th day of June, 2022 I awoke to a splendid summer day. When I say “awoke” it was not abrupt. Last evening we lingered unrestrained in our leather lounge chairs before the television watching exotic cooking shows until approaching 2:00 am and finally relented but only hesitantly.  Then I swear the first hour in bed I twisted back and forth side-to-side attempting to accommodate uncontrollable leg cramps and sudden nervous explosions. It wasn’t until 5:00 am that I first recovered from the ensuing tranquility and took my customary handful of early morning pills. They as usual proved sufficient to subdue my carcass for another period of sleep which today shamefully extended until nearly eleven o’clock when as I say, I awoke to a splendid summer day.

An unproductive start to the day such as this is never my preferred choice. But today is a Sunday. The so-called white noise of civilization is muted. Though when we hit the garage running so to speak to collect our bicycles for the routine expiation of inadequacy there were several others already there. Presumably they were removing their respective automobiles for golf games or a trip to the cottage. Perhaps as well a propitious visit to the grocery store now that Matins no longer interferes with commerce or other earthly requisites.

And now it is a lazy breakfast of my favourite starters – sliced apple and steel cut oats – throughout which the mellifluous voices of Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Abbey Lincoln and Sarah Vaughan soothe the remaining concern. My reinstatement is complete.

Serendipitously the morning activity has positioned me comfortably for afternoon extension. Time is a peculiar ingredient which can annoyingly obstruct or pleasingly persuade vigour. Apparently condensing action is the secret. How often even when I begin my day at dawn have I effectively dithered away the entire morning, accomplishing nothing more substantive than today. Perhaps it aids my resource to focus upon the credentials only and omit the superfluity. One wonders what preserves balance and fulfillment.

Dear, I thought I’d drop a line
The weather’s cool, the folks are fine
I’m in bed each night at nine
P.S. I love you

Yesterday we had some rain
But all in all, I can’t complain
Was it dusty on the train?
P.S. I love you

Write to the Browns just as soon as you’re able
They came around to call
And I burned a hole in the dining room table
Now let me think, I guess that’s all

Nothing else for me to say
And so I’ll close, but by the way
Everybody’s thinking of you
P.S. I love you

Songwriters: Jenkins Gordon / Mercer John
P.S. I Love You lyrics © The Johnny Mercer Foundation