Occasionally, Sunday actually day of rest

I just checked. It looks like I started last week’s column with a veiled complaint about the weather. So, that’s out for this week. Can’t do it two weeks in a row. Nope, you won’t find any griping here about the sleet/hail/rain/lightning and thunder/snow/wind/gloomy fog and heavy mist all seen within the last week.

In fact, take the mention of rain out of there. I’m not complaining about the rain, we need it. Sure, a break might be needed soon to allow for planting, but I digress.

Because, remember, I’m not growling about the weather this week.

My day of rest

Sometimes the opportunities are just too ideal to pass up. You’re presented with a chance to truly enjoy the simple things in life, and you have to take it. Something like, oh, let’s say — Sundays and naps.

Sundays aren’t what they used to be, or at least not the legend they’re usually known as. They’ve always carried the nickname “a day of rest.” But are they really that anymore?

Lots of businesses are open and people need to staff them. Kids’ activities have some chasing ball games or tournaments or whatever all over the countryside at all hours of the day. Other days of the week can be so packed with activity that all the little things that didn’t get done fall down to Sunday to be completed.

Lawns are mowed, gardens planted, rooms painted, to-do lists are whittled down and families are reunited. All on our day of rest.

But every once in a great while, a Sunday rolls around that you just can’t help but sit and watch it pass by. I had one of those this past Sunday. The perfect juxtaposition of factors let it be so. Some factors are good, like the fact that nothing particularly urgent needed to be done that day and the final round of the Masters golf tournament was on TV. Others, maybe not so good, like the fact that Saturday night lasted a little longer than normal.

But the fact remained, there was Sunday, just begging for someone to treat it as a day of rest, and I was just the person to do it. Even some of my activities were designed to help avoid other activities. I did work up the energy to drive to a local grocery store for fried chicken and side dishes, thus saving us the need to cook. (I’m a pretty considerate guy that way.)

Sure, there are some Sundays where I might get mad at myself if a high percentage of it is spent in the easy chair, but this past Sunday it just felt right. When the day starts with “CBS Sunday Morning” on the TV and a Sunday newspaper on my lap, and ends with a quick run for an ice cream treat — and those are the highlights of the day — well, who am I to complain?

Even better with some Z’s

But I did mention two simple things earlier. And the other is the perfect companion to the lazy Sunday — a nap. Naps can come in many forms: the quick “30 winks” while still in the easy chair, to the full-blown, lay-down and tune-out form.

Mine are usually of the small snoozes caught while sitting back and relaxing variety. Fortunately for this past Sunday, it was just quick enough to not miss too much of the Masters.

And the two don’t necessarily have to go hand in hand. You can have a lazy Sunday and still remain awake the entire time. Or you can work your tail off and obliterate the to-do list on a free Sunday and still work in a little shut-eye. If the weather’s nice enough to do so in a lawn chair, or even better yet a hammock, all the better.  

The prospects for this coming Sunday aren’t promising. The weather might actually be decent, and my garage could use a little cleaning up — not to mention the box of Christmas lights that still needs to go up to the attic — and Saturday is pretty booked up.

So, there’s going to be things to do on Sunday.

Oh, well, it’s days like that that make days like last Sunday all the better when they roll around.



Russ Batenhorst

Don't expect to detect a common topic or theme in Russ Batenhorst's weekly column in the Hastings Tribune. Usually it's whatever slice-of-life observation pops into his head just in time to make the deadline for it to appear each Friday.

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