My ideal weekday would start with no alarm clock, of course, and with my body waking up to the perfect amount of sunshine leaking through the drapes in the bedroom. I’d come downstairs to drink a mug of excrutiatingly hot coffee (and dutifully swallow my anti-crazy pills) then I’d eat a breakfast of smoked salmon, bocconcini cheese and whole wheat toast drizzled with butter – all while reading a paperback small enough to hold in one hand. Fiction. Lighthearted, but with a good moral to the story.
I’d take the dogs for a walk in perfect weather – cool, sunny and with a strong breeze – and we’d stop along the way so they could sniff trees and flowers and bark at strangers. We’d return home full of energy, and as the dogs drank water and sniffed around, I’d spend some time letting the rats free-range in an open, clean, cool room. I’d spend at least an hour watching the finches in the aviary listening to them beep and chirp.
For lunch I’d eat something simple – my cabbage sammiches, most likely – with a big glass of freezing cold water. Again, with the book in my hand. Then I’d make my way to the local stationery store to poke at cards and notebooks and journals. I’d pick out a few for gifts and a few for myself, then stop at the coffee shop next door for an iced drink to savour on the way back. I’d swing by the little bookstore in Burlington, too, before coming home. I might buy a book or two, but I’d probably just browse.
In mid-afternoon I’d find myself absorbed by something creative – something with colours and textures and crisp lines. Halfway through the project I’d stop to wash my hands and brush my hair before heading out to meet a friend for dinner at a place on the edge of Lake Ontario. A place with opened windows and a beautiful view. We’d eat onion rings and watch the seagulls floating above the waves, we’d laugh and gossip and make plans for the following week. Maybe a movie?
As the light faded, and as the lake disappeared behind our own reflections in the windows, we’d hug each other goodbye and laugh a bit more before walking back to our cars. I’d know that Coffee would meet me at home – not too late to play some Tetris and tell each other about our days and snuggle up together. We’d laugh and talk and laugh more until we had trouble keeping our eyes open – and then we’d head off to bed together. Falling into a deep, dark, delicious sleep.
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