I woke up this morning with a contented, pressure-free feeling. Gentle light streamed through the slats of my mini-blinds, and the fan was on, pulling in air that smelled more like fall than summer into the room. My bed, appealingly comfy on the best days, seemed to have gotten even more plush overnight. I rolled over and flipped on the radio to see what Leanne Hanson on Morning Edition Sunday was up to. I lay there, half listening and half drifting for another half hour until the demanding duo, bladder and caffeine craving, insisted I get up.

With those two needs taken care of, I puttered. I read. I ate a sliced hardboiled egg on toasted rosemary bread, spread with a tiny bit of Hellman’s mayo (it might sound like a strange combination, but it’s basically egg salad without all the effort, it was a staple post Easter/Passover breakfast when I was growing up). I enjoyed my last weekend of roommate free apartment, wandering around until 2 pm in my pajamas.

What was especially nice about the day was that I could really let myself relax. That little voice in my head that chides me when I’m not being productive or using my time effectly seems to have gone on vacation (if I’m lucky, she may be on permanent sabbatical). Okay, I did do a couple of productive things, including some laundry and washing the kitchen floor, but I promise, I did them with a feeling of pleasure, no internal nagging occurred.

There was a nap, on my favorite brown couch, that took place from 3:15 until 4:22 pm, that so completely redeemed the nap I took last Sunday, that if asked, I would be forced to deny that I’d ever had such a thing as a bad nap.

The last, great moment of the day was as I walking to my car, leaving the house of two friends. I had stopped on a whim, just because I had been in the neighborhood. The door was open, and I just walked in. They told me I was a member of the household, who just didn’t happen to sleep there most nights. We went down to the Custard Shack on Ridge and I had a peach milkshake for dinner. An hour and a half later, I left and had one of those moments, where I knew my life was pretty darn good, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be and that all good things were possible.