Idleness

Today is the day of restful idleness for me. Waking up late without much if anything to do. Of course, I'm still waiting on the results of the test that might determine my future for years to come, but the results aren't likely to arrive today, and I've done all I can about it already, so I'm not really thinking very hard about that stuff.

The sky is bright blue, and while the tress outside are still naked in shades of brown and gray, I can hear the birds sing outside my window, the kind I haven't heard of during the winter. Perhaps it is already spring. The sun is surely bright enough. I like having my floors naked, its wooden form stripped for all the world to see. For the life of me I can't understand why anyone would smother their own house with carpets, prone to infestation and endless waves of dust. When I open all the windows and sit on the cool wooden floor I feel as if I'm in a temple, a place for silent contemplation, and just listening to winds cross the edges of my ears, making strangely comforting, vacuous sound.

When I was young I would be jumping in joy in days like this. But the uncertainties of future brought on by adulthood doesn't really let me indulge in simple joys like I used to. I'm afraid that I'm getting old, older.