I've rediscovered vegging

The title of this blog will remind those of you with a very good memory of the time many years ago that my mother tried to set me up with the son of a friend of a friend. By many years ago I mean long before I learned not to give mom my work number, although I should have. Take the following phone call:

Mom: Hi. I'm writing a birthday card. How do you spell "birthday."
A.: B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y.
Mom: B-E...
A.: B-I... could you look it up in a dictionary? I have a lot of work...
Mom: Just spell it for me.
A.: B-I-R-T-H...
Mom: B-I-T-H...
A.: B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y

At this point, I notice that Jo Ann, my office mate, is laughing hysterically at the half of the following conversation she is hearing. I don't remember how many more times I actually had to spell it.

Another time, my mom called while I was at lunch and left an urgent sounding message, said to call her right away. I called, worried that something bad might have happened.

Mom: Hello?
A.: Is everything okay?
Mom: You HAVE to meet this guy... you're perfect for each other. He also rides his bike to work!
A.: Mom, in the future, unless it's an actual emergency, please don't leave me messages that imply an emergency.
Mom: He's the son of a friend of Jane's.
A.: Not interested, thanks.
Mom: But he rides his bike to work!
A.: Mom, I just don't have time right now...
Mom: Well, just meet him.
A.: No, thanks.

The next day, I returned to my desk from lunch to another urgent sounding message. This time I figured it was not urgent.

A.: Hi.
Mom: A., you won't believe it! He's a veggie!
A.: Huh?
Mom: He not only doesn't eat meat, he consumes no animal products...
A.: Okay...
Mom: Just meet him.
A.: I don't have time.

***
While it's always fun to reminisce, it is not veganism that I've rediscovered. I've rediscovered lounging around and reading. It feels weird... like I need an excuse for not being productive. I don't remember when I last had a chance to sit down and read (when not traveling on public transportation of some sort). For the first time in ages, I am not swamped. I'm caught up (as much as one ever is) on cleaning, laundry, etc.; I've exercised as much as I care to given that I'm getting over a cold; it's freezing out (literally); and some things that I need to do will have to wait until the related offices are open.

My thought process follows: "I. have. time. to. read. It feels... decadent. It feels like a chocolate cake with ganache and raspberry coulis (like the one at Las Tapas in Old Town... mmmmmmm). It feels like I haven't done anything to deserve this... I should find a way to be productive, and then read. What about all the things I always think I should do when I have more time? Why didn't I write them down somewhere? I probably did. Maybe I should read a self-help book because that can count as being productive..."

All of the sudden, an epiphany: Reading "I Am America (and So Can You)" is productive, because I'll need to return it to Serenity shortly. I've had it for months and have only read a few chapters.

It's funny. It's really funny. I'm steadily laughing, and then I get to page 43 and just lose it. Curious? Read the book... I can't do it justice.

***
Reviews by A.

-Arctic Tale, as seen on return flight: Very good, cute.
-701 Restaurant: Pretty good food, but I will never return there because they kicked us out two hours or so after our reservation, as they had booked our table for another party. Very rude, especially when you consider the tab for a three-course meal for five people.
-Argonautika at the Shakespeare Theatre: Excellent, go see it now.