Saturdays

Saturday always seems like a such a promise. You wake up with the entire day stretching before you and you can do whatever you wish (within reason of course). The best Saturdays start with the sun streaming in through the window and a slight breeze blowing the curtains. At this point, you have so many options, you can roll back over and go to sleep, you can lie in bed and daydream or you can get up and greet the day.

With a big stretch, I get up to greet the day and slowly amble through to the rest of the apartment. Half of my brain is creating a to-do list with an appropriate time-line and the other half is savouring the moment of expectation. It's Saturday: I don't have to be anywhere at a certain time; I have so many options to choose. What am I going to do today?

I know that I will go to the market and the grocery store to get supplies for the week, I know that I really must vacuum and I know that I really must tidy my room. But for the moment, I have the entire week-end to accomplish it. I put on the kettle and make toast. With my tea and toast in hand, I check my e-mail and the news, the breeze making the curtains dance beside me and the sun inviting me to come outside.

I get ready to head to the market and make a mental list of the stores I wish to browse through and things I need to buy. I grab my shopping tote and I head off.

First on my list of stores is the bookstore. I know exactly which book I want to get but I find myself wandering into the cooking section. My eyes alight on the baking books. Time doesn't matter today and I indulge myself by flipping through the various books. I toy between the purchase of a book full of creme brulee recipes, one on wonderfully gooey desserts like toffee pudding and a more encompassing baking book. As I find myself contemplating the purchase of all three, I force myself to leave the section and I find myself in the textile section. Luckily for my self-control, none of the books tempt my wallet. I pick up the book I came for and march myself out of the store.

My next stop is a stationary store. One of my friends makes scrap books and her own cards. While visiting her, we had gone to card store and spent ages looking through the various cards. At the end, we had decided that we should really send more cards - they're fantastic. The normal birthday cards don't do justice to the cards that are out there. The blank card isn't used enough. A quick note or a lengthy letter inside an appropriate card is always appreciated by the receiver. I spend ages in the card store choosing a blank card for my grandparents. In the end, I find the perfect card. I come out of the store feeling that this is the way that Saturdays should be spent. Accomplishing tasks in the most enjoyable way possible.

At home, I do my cooking stint and I sit down and start writing my cards. E-mail is fantastic because it's quick. A letter is different. Instead of the "Hey" or even no greeting, a letter starts "Dear" and becomes the start of something special. No one sits down to savour an e-mail but upon receiving a letter, one will eagerly break open the envelope and fan the pages. If it's a long one, you sit down and make yourself comfortable to find out what is contained within the its lines. This isn't something that was dashed off but something that was written to be savoured and as you read it, you savour it.

Writing and receiving letters feels like a Saturday, full of promise. There's something about writing letters on Saturday that just feels right. Whereas doing vacuuming just seems wrong.