This morning, I woke up without my alarm (something that is pretty much unheard of around these parts, conflicted as my love/hate relationship with sleep tends to be) and next to a soft, squishy, warm orange cat that was as happy to see me as I was to see him.  A client emailed me back the exact information I needed at the exact time I needed it, allowing me to work quickly and enthusiastically on a part of his project I was hoping to complete today.  I took a 10-minute break to read a book on the deck and throw a ball for the dog (one of the tennis balls that keeps mysteriously appearing in our yard, likely thanks to the dog-less little girls next door who love Daisy perhaps as much as we do) and another 10-minute break to spin around my neighbourhood – quickly and breathlessly and inefficient-but-enthusiastically – on my bike. 

The author of one my favourite blogs, Pink of Perfection, posted today the following quasi-provocative question, based on a newsletter she received that suggested that May is the perfect time to set sail on a quest to rebuild and restructure how we spend our days, or to begin an exploration of what gives us hope and energy and creativity:

I love the idea of rebuilding the architecture of our days, especially if the current structure doesn’t support what we need most right now. What do your days need more of? What pleasure or goodness are you going to build into the architecture of your days in May?

On the surface, such a question is painfully indulgent, but you know, I can’t help but think sometimes we need more indulgences, especially if they are really at their most basic just things that we crave and need and tell ourselves we can’t have, at least not right now, maybe later, maybe tomorrow (maybe never).  Some days, taking a nap or listening to Billy Joel really loudly in the car or reading the most terrible of books while lying on the couch in the comfiest of pajamas are as crucial to our survival as eating or breathing.

My very simple answer to the question posed above is this:  I want more of today.  More sunshine, more bike rides, more windows open to feel the warm air that’s showing me that yes, yes, finally spring’s tenuous hold on our weather is getting stronger.  More timely, convenient, and professionally satisfying mornings, more wonder in and acknowledgement of the luxury of being paid – not a lot, but enough – to do what I love.  More joyful minutes stolen on the deck in and amongst stringing together the thoughts and ideas I want to communicate, more watching the words I’m using fall quietly into the right order, settling in nicely and comfortably next to each other, like a fat orange cat and his sleepy owner in the early part of the morning.