No Tomorrow

"Can you believe that Tuesday is Groundhog Day?" I asked my sister last night on Zoom.

"Every day is Groundhog Day, man!" she scoffed, and we both sighed because we knew how right she was.

Lately, the weekends have been tougher than the work week for me: more often than not I find myself sitting in my chair trying to think of something fun and engaging to do that I haven't already done 25 times since we've been staying at home. 

This evening I heard a piece on the radio about what we lose when we lose acquaintances, people who aren't close enough to for us to seek out, yet whose company we enjoyed all the same. The loss of those chance encounters with a colleague in another department at a meeting, or someone at the gym, or a favorite waiter or bartender, or another fan in the bleachers at a school sporting event is also a lost opportunity for serendipity and the joy it brings. 

Yesterday a couple of our neighbors texted to see if we had any interest in coming out to play in the snow. As it happened? We had about 25 minutes before we were scheduled for that Zoom call. So we pulled on some layers, leashed up Lucy and headed out to the big hill in our complex. There 8-year-old Elijah and I climbed to the top and slid down on our bottoms at least 10 times; no sled needed to enjoy the snow slide created by the icy conditions.

It was completely unplanned and by far the most fun I have had in weeks, if not months.