Usually I’d jump at the chance to go on a hiking trip out in the Columbia Gorge, both because it’s beautiful out there and because I rarely get outside the city limits these days. Even if I do get to the Gorge or the coast, it’s usually not with a companion and I don’t tend to wander off on hiking trails by myself. Besides they’re really more fun with a friend.
So I was surprised when my immediate reaction to this offer was no, I want to stay home, do a few things, putter around and perhaps even do some of the writing that’s been hanging over my head. It’s not that the offered company wasn’t great, and that’s the part that makes me wonder if I’ll be sorry I didn’t go. I like Sundays that are low key, though. And the opportunity to have a sunny one and just relax on my balcony is too enticing to pass up. The basil plant is doing well, unlike some of the others which are suffering from neglect, and the smell of basil in sunshine makes me feel happier. Dill would be good but I seem to have killed it. There’ll be sunny days later in the week — or so they tell me — but I have commitments that will require indoor work then. So today’s my day for doing not too much.
There’s no wireless connection out here, which keeps me from getting sucked into the endless diversions of Twitter and such. There are wireless connections to be had but all protected (as they should be) including one that calls itself “blah blah blah.” Plenty of things I could do indoors but the number of days I can comfortably sit on the balcony with a glass of iced coffee are severely limited. Less than a dozen in the whole year I’d say. It’s usually way too cold or way too windy or both to enjoy just sitting out here. Maybe two days a year it’s too hot, but it has to be over 90 and not breezy to make that happen. So I want to take advantage of it while it lasts.
If I feel ambitious later, perhaps I’ll even go for a short walk. Or perhaps not. There are dozens of events around town that I could potentially go to, but really I just want to recharge a little.
