It was only last week
that I discovered the French expression, “faire la grasse matinée.” It means “a
fat morning” and I was intrigued by it, because it sounds wonderful, and better
because the upcoming Saturday didn’t have any plans. It means “to sleep in,”
but disguised in a foreign accent and wrapped in French romance, it’s more than
just pajama’s and morning breath – it is an excellent covenant to have with
yourself, and protocol for weekends following busy weeks. If you must have a
lazy Saturday morning (everyone must at some point), then you must do it well.
7:00am
My weekday alarm goes
off, because my phone is obviously struggling to cope with the pressure I’ve
been putting on it, and I should be mad, but I’m not. We’ve been through too
many good/bad times, and I know it will take a much deeper wound than this for
me to replace it. I drift back to sleep, surprised and pleased at my willing
forgiveness.
8:58am
Sunshine keeps slipping
through the curtain, and I decide I should let it in completely, because I know
it’s been longing to for the last two hours. I’m
hazy from sleep, but I detect a clear sky, and then get distracted by my cat,
who wants to come inside but will not use the cat door (spoiler: I let her in).
9:10am
A cliché, a trend, a
mania. Whatever you call it, the weekend usually starts with coffee. Two more
minutes and then I will be whole again, less aggravated by my cat, and able to
say “good morning” a little less softly, a little more firmly. My most
unpopular and probably unacceptable opinion is that instant coffee isn’t that
bad, so I pick a sachet and empty it into an egg blue artist’s mug. Steam from
the jug clouds the window.
9:15am
I read chapter sixteen of “All
The Light We Cannot See” by Anothony Doerr. I have always been fascinated by
World War II, and have a habit of getting lost in both fiction and non-fiction
narrations of what happened, in all those wonderful details about some of the
bravest people I believe to have ever lived. Pain is awful, but it exposes a
deeper element of existence that I insistently weep and melancholically long to
understand. I don’t really mind when the man next door starts mowing the lawns,
because I have drifted so far into my paperback prose that I have probably
forgotten such technology even exists.
10:23am
I wander up the stairs, and
I contemplate cleaning, but don’t. I bought bagels yesterday, and since I
consider them the greatest of all brunch-time meals, I will have two thanks. I
stand there in floral pajama’s and watch the bacon cook, simultaneously flinging
spinach and brie cheese and any appealing leftover veges around the kitchen. After
the intial rush-around, I am very specific in my meal prep, and after
flipping the bacon, I finish organizing the bagel fillings on the border of my
plate. The toaster pops (it gives my cat a fright), and in a single movement, I
grab the knife and swiftly crunch butter on to each half of the bagel. Plated
and ready, dripping in butter and bacon fat.
10:33am
I am happy and full, but my cat
looks repressed – apparently fresh biscuits are significantly inadequate, and assuming she will eat them a very
generous and offensive expectation. But
I am busy refreshing my twitter feed, because although it is often just meaningless chatter,
sometimes it is nice to talk about nothing, especially on Saturday mornings.
10:55am
I bought a Lush shower
gel that I am desperate to try out (the Comforter if you were wondering), so I
pad down the stairs, and turn the shower handle to red-skin-hot. I am clean, I
smell great, and I have now changed into a passably stylish outfit. Despite my
religiousness around having a ‘lazy’ morning, I quickly tidy all the hair
products lining the basin, because having that many lids open is giving me anxiety. I also water all nearby plants, in a sudden panic, due to my inability
to recall the last time I did so. Deep breaths – they are not dead (yet).
11:25am
I am gracefully spread
in the middle of my queen-size bed, flicking through my life goals planner, while
sipping a second Capuccino (this one has coconut milk because we have run out
of cow’s milk and a lazy Saturday does not include a drive to the grocery
store). I am happily emblazoning it with stickers and tasteful gel pen
markings, and I joyfully make my next dentist appointment a colourful fiesta. Although my
skills in calligraphy would never make me IG famous, they do make my planner
look good (my cat hears but doesn’t care). Half of this ‘planning’ time was
spent on Pinterest, of course.
12:00pm
The clock, the weather - the morning is over.
(Wistfully returns to responsible life.) What do you do on a lazy Saturday
morning?
Mads xx
Haha this was nice to read, a lazy Saturday morning sounds so perfect. I was green with envy whilst reading this haha. xx
ReplyDeleteCoco Bella Blog
Haha!
DeleteI'm from Australia and 18 too. Cute blog!
ReplyDeleteYay close by! Thanks xx
DeleteI wish I could have a lazy Saturday. Unfortunately, for me, my weekends are nothing but hectic!😌 Nice routine, I'd say.😄😄
ReplyDelete#sweetreats xx www.bakingboutiquebirds.blogspot.co.uk/