I was going to start out by saying this was a parody of the NYTimes “How a X Spends Their Sunday” feature, but then I realized the Sundays documented in that feature are the parodies…. Honestly I don’t see how any human being can fit in that many brunches and play dates and pilates classes in one day unless they have one of those time-turners from Harry Potter. I get exhausted just *reading* about the Sundays described in that column. And that makes me deeply suspicious of their “slice of life” verisimilitude. I think they are much more likely composites of all the chic-est and most noble things their subjects have done over a year’s worth of Sundays. I might be wrong: I mean, New Yorkers are notoriously driven people. I, on the other hand, am not. So, if the Times ever profiled one of my weekend days and I was being honest, it would look something like this:
7:30 am Get woken up by dogs prancing around and panting on me over the edge of the bed. Grumble at them and roll over.
8:30 am Finally get up and feed dogs. Make tea and try to decide what to do for the day. End up watching Kiu on YouTube for a half hour.
9:30 am Make breakfast—most likely freezer waffles and Greek yoghurt.
10 am Make a list of things I need to do. Look at list and decide I don’t feel like doing any of those things. Read the NYTimes and do the Wordle and Spelling Bee for a half hour.
10:45 am Say something out loud like “Get it together, MourningDove,” and do something valiant like go upstairs (so much WORK), get dressed, and carry a load of laundry downstairs and put it in the washer.
11:00 am Feel virtuous and reward myself by watching Quinbobin videos on YouTube for 15 minutes. Call my sister to procrastinate for an additional 45 minutes. Look at dishwasher that needs unloading while I’m talking to my sister and then decide it will make too much noise and I’ll do it later. Do not in fact do it later.
12:00 pm Tell my sister I have to go make lunch and walk the dogs. Decide all the healthy things I should have for lunch are too much work and eat a power bar. Do not walk dogs because it’s too hot/cold/rainy/windy out. Bribe them with chew bones and play Zelda instead for 2 hours.
2 pm Wonder if I need a shower. I probably do, but then I remember I’m not seeing anyone today, so I don’t take one. Set out to send some emails I need to but get distracted instead shopping tea trays on Etsy.
4 pm The guilt of my dogs bringing me toys and staring at me mournfully finally gets to me, so I walk them around the block. Upon returning, I remember with a start that I haven’t fed the chickens *or* done anything about the laundry in the washer. A half hour of crazed activity ensues.
5 pm Remember that, contrary to all the promises I made myself about this weekend, I have not in fact done any of the adulting I was supposed to: clean the house, take my vitamins, make lunches for the week, make bread. Shrug and decide there’s always Sunday. Make a cocktail and dinner for myself. Hopefully remember to feed dogs, too.
6 pm Look at pile of dirty dishes and decide not to do them because I haven’t unloaded the dishwasher yet. Watch ATEEZ videos on YouTube for an hour.
7 pm Decide I have watched WAY too much YouTube and switch to Netflix. Oh look, there’s a new season of X out….
11 pm Fall asleep on couch
12 am Wake up with numb left arm, wonder if I remembered to lock the doors, decide it’s too much work to check, and stumble upstairs to bed.
The Rookery 