This was originally written a couple of weeks ago. 

The weather here in my home state is beginning to warm and far more pleasant days have been enjoyed this month than last.  However today mother nature decided to resist her transition to spring and doled out a cold, rainy Sunday instead.  Not able to take the bike out or go for a meditative walk, I resigned myself to wasting away this bleak Sunday afternoon.  I am unashamed.

I woke and decided to  see if I could find some furniture for my living room.  Furniture shopping is not an easy task.  Everything is so big these days.  Has it always been?  Three months in my new apartment and I have yet to furnish the living room.  I did however purchase a dining room table back in January.  I suppose this shows were my priorities are.

Defeated in my shopping expedition, with no sulking on my part mind you, I returned home excitedly.  Today I was going to make linguine with a white clam sauce and glass or two or three or… of Chardonnay.  Exquisite.  Yet it was made even more wonderful by a new interest of mine, classical music.  I shouldn’t say new as that is not quite accurate.  I have always had an appreciation for classical, but never really pursued the interest much past the appreciation stage.  I’m working on correcting that.  So today I was treated to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.  Wow.  Wow.

With a full stomach, a satisfied ear, and I mind imbued with Chardonnay it was time for a nap, but not before writing a couple of haikus.  Yet another interest that I am attempting to cultivate.  And then a peaceful slumber…

I awaken to the sound of rain still beating on the pavement outside my window.  This tune, although not in the same league with Vivaldi, makes it difficult to rise from the comfort of a warm bed, but rise I must.  There is still much wasting to be done.

Making my way to the kitchen I begin to boil  the water for my next treat, Starbucks Espresso Roast.  This is a luxury I am all to happy to splurge on.  I grind the beans, but not before allowing my olfactory nerve to enjoy the pleasure of the aroma of a full bag of whole bean coffee.  I allow the ground beans to seep in the French press for several minutes before pressing.  We are almost there.  I pour this black liquid into my waiting coffee mug.  I admire the oils that settle on top of the black gold and allow the steam to fill my nostrils.  How did I become so lucky?

I settle at my desk and prepare to do a little reading, but not before picking a little background music to set the mood; Miles Davis’ album Kind of Blue.  A rainy Sunday needs a little jazz.  As if all this were not enough I topped it off with a little Ghirardelli’s Intense Dark Twilight Delight.  I should be ashamed of such indulgence, but I’m not.  Instead I revel in it.

You see what I have managed to pull off today is the kind of living that I so long for and try to cultivate on a regular basis, infusing the mundane with a healthy dose of intentional living.  Most of our days are full of tasks that are not all that exciting.  Eating is one example of many such tasks.  How often do we hurry our meals just to move on to something else?  However, if one so desired this mundane activity could be elevated to an art and indeed many people do and perhaps many more should.  It is these wasted Sunday afternoons that I fear I will miss most when the days ahead of me are far fewer than the ones that lie behind me.  What I yearn for most is more Wasted Sunday afternoon, along with Wasted Monday afternoons, and Wasted Tuesday afternoons and…

The Stoic