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Easy Like Saturday Morning ...

There are certainly things I could do.

I need to do the laundry. If I don't address it soon, it will completely take over my house and will likely suffocate me. If you see socks spilling out of my windows, call 911.

I need to cut the grass because with this week's monsoon, everything has grown about a foot and a half. Except the circumference of my hips. So there's that for which to be thankful.

I need to go to the grocery store. There are only so many things a girl can make with what I have on hand. Which probably explains why my hips have yet to be counted as an additional occupant by the fine folks from the census.

(Speaking of which, a perfectly lovely woman knocked on my door yesterday, trying to get some information about my next-door neighbors. It seems they haven't returned their census form, so they're on the list for a visit from a census worker. And she's tried before, to no avail. But yesterday, she saw the guy go in his house and then went and knocked on the door and he wouldn't answer. I have to think that if you don't send in your census form and you don't answer your door when the census worker knocks, you're probably setting yourself up for some sort of investigation.)

I need to empty the dishwasher and wash up the few dishes in the sink.

But I'm not. I'm sitting on my loveseat, my official sitting spot when I write these days, and sipping what's left of my triple grande hazelnut non-fat latte, my reward for schlepping to Starbucks - on foot! – early on a Saturday morning.

The birds are singing. And the sun is shining. And the slightest breeze is blowing, barely stirring my curtains. And I have no inclination to do anything other than to simply be.

So I'm being.

I'm a big fan of being. I've gotten quite good at it.

English Teacher Dave addressed last year's Christmas card to Be Ku, shorthand for my name, but also good advice.

Be Ku, indeed.

I shall try to be no one else. I wouldn't succeed anyway.

Though at the moment, I think I should like to Be Unconscious.

Perhaps a nap is in order. Despite the three shots of espresso I've ingested. They don't seem to be doing any good.

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