Lately I love Saturdays because it means that the ritual of dropping tools on the floor in the apartment above us does not happen. The apartment directly above us is currently in the midst of a gut renovation which began in early December (2010). Contractors are not allowed to work in the building before 9am, but for the last few months, Monday – Friday, precisely at 9am the workers arrive. I imagine that they come in carrying their tool belts or boxes, and when they reach the location in the apartment where they will begin working for the day, they do not set their tools down, but drop them. The floors are nothing at present but plywood over cement, and the sound reverberates in ways I might have thought impossible just a few months ago. So even on days when we were up particularly late and 9am seems early, there is no more sleep once the dropping ritual begins.
But on Saturdays, there is silence. Lovely, blissful silence. Without the upstairs alarm to rouse us, we often find ourselves waking at 9:30 or, on rare occasions, even 10. The first couple of times this happened I was appalled, but as Maya said, “Why? We don’t have anywhere we need to be.”
Which brings me to my other favorite thing about Saturdays. Freedom from any kind of schedule that demands our presence in a certain place at a certain time. This is how lazy I really am. I love getting up late, taking my time over breakfast and then wandering over to Starbucks for coffee at my leisure. Yes, my usual morning routine includes those things, but often with the thought, “and then at [ insert time here] we need to leave to get to [ insert place here].” Not on Saturdays. On Saturdays, my kids do their own thing knowing they can takes minutes or hours without interruption. Often Greta comes and spends the day, so there is added entertainment. And somewhere around 4 or 5 in the afternoon, I hand Maya some money with which to order out dinner and I leave to meet Joshua.
The kids look forward to our evening out as much as Joshua and I do. Maya tells me every week that there is no need to rush back. And it’s not because they are planning decadent activities; they just enjoy the freedom they feel when they order their own food, play loud games without end, etc. Usually when we get home at around 9 they are happily drawing or watching TV or playing Wii, empty pizza box on the table. (Tonight all signs of the pizza box were gone and the dishes were in the sink!)
My kind of day
These are currently blooming in front of Lincoln Center
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