A New Leaf (or at least a new seed that might eventually become a new leaf)

In case you thought I was bragging in my last post, which described a certain inability to relax that Tiffany and I have the misfortune of sharing, let me correct you. I am not proud of the fact that sometimes we lie in bed after a productive day and make a list of productive things to do the following day. These are not characteristics to admire.

Last Saturday, we practiced unproductivity.

We slept in (til 7:30).

Instead of rushing off to do our errands and forgetting to eat, we made ourselves tea... and then boiled water for second cups.

"Don't panic," I said to Tiffany as we sat on the floor in our pajamas catching up on weeks-old magazines, "but we haven't done anything today. I think this might be relaxing."

After our tea, we went out for breakfast. I consciously made an effort not to think of all the things we could be doing if we weren't waiting for a table. Instead, we talked--and not about what we needed to get done before Sunday night.

Later, we went for a run on the beach. When we felt like stopping and walking, we stopped and walked.

On our way home, instead of going to the grocery store, we went to the driving range, and, even when we knew people were waiting for our slips of green turf, we didn't rush. We poured our balls from our buckets a few at a time and took sips of Coke and beer in between our (terrible) shots (here we discovered something else we need to practice: golfing).

But old habits die hard.

On the way home, we backslid slightly and got our oil changed.

"There'll be no line," I begged. "It's Saturday night."

We paused to appreciate what getting our oil changed on a Saturday night said about us as a couple and decided we were okay with it.

At the shop, we high-fived each other on our efficiency and, while we waited, turned our plastic-backed chairs to the setting sun.