Don’t get me wrong; I like a good day off as much as the next person, no matter when it falls. But this has felt entirely like a Saturday (and yesterday like a Friday) and then, oh cruelness, it isn’t and tomorrow it’s back to the office for another three days. Hardly seems fair.
I slept way too late, but not wayyyy too late, even missing today’s Tour stage (which C and Emma are watching together in the other room as I type). (The early sprinters’ days aren’t my faves anyway.) I just bought tickets to the first matinee of The Devil Wears Prada, and afterward I plan to come home and write some new stuff set in a dive in the near-the-interstate wilds of West Virginia (yes, I finally got the girl on the road!), then take Emma (and C) for a long walk somewhere. Pretty much a perfect day.
Last night we bought the first season of the U.S. version of The Office, which it turns out we’d actually seen about half of. Still SO good. This didn’t seem remarkably Independence Day oriented at the time, but now, I see it’s a celebration of our co-opting of British culture. Cheers! We walked Emma the Dog-Girl before bed, as it’s been unbelievably hot here when the light is out. We looked at Venus and the Moon, looming and orange. There was some sort of patriotic, symphonic event going on in nearby Gratz Park and at Transylvania University, where we usually start Emma’s neighborhood walks (there’s one dog-girl chosen in each generation to fight the squirrels — and this is her SquirrelMouth). Dizzy with their patriotic tunes, people offered Emma popcorn, swooned and squealed over her, while she tried to avoid their sparklers. So much of fireworks is waiting and then being underwowed; I’ll be relieved when there’s an end to it.
But, hopefully, you have a more generous spirit about this sort of thing and actually enjoy it. Why couldn’t they have opened Pirates today? Anyone? Okay, off to it.