Taking a sabbath

Adena Brook this time of year.

I don't know when I began to think taking Sunday off was a good idea. I remember the years we would go to church and then, I'm guessing, out to lunch, and then to Border's and buy easily $50 worth of stuff. Books, magazines, impulse purchases. Who were we to stand outside the consumer economy? We joked about it. Somehow, when you're young you think your excesses are cute.

Now I really do take Sunday off from the flow of responsibilities. I don't do anything I don't want to do. This seems to prevent me from doing anything that feels like "work" or "should," though sometimes I'll do laundry or cook, and enjoy it. I seldom do anything special.

I've gotten used to having this sometimes boring day. An interesting subject, boredom, whose opposite is excitement I guess; I seem to have gotten bored with excitement these days.

On Sunday, the burdens drop to the floor. I don't work problems. I am usually energized Monday, write a lot, make out frisky lists of things to do, and get to the health club. Monday actually feels good, something I could never say about Monday on any of the jobs I had. At the same time, I often felt disappointed that my weekend had not yielded more fun. Fun is a big subject at one point in your life.

Work. The problem with being paid to do something is, it is almost never something you would do if nobody paid you. My daughter Cassie told me reasonably, "That's why they call it work." Well, poets don't necessarily know these things.