Sunday Morning Coffee with Biff

I love Sunday mornings. 

They are like Saturday mornings, but without the threat of impending yard work hanging over me. 

By late yesterday afternoon I had finished up all of my usual weekend chores and errands, must-dos, gotta-dos, and dosie-dos.  So I spent my Saturday evening in something of a waking coma:   here, but not really here, if you know what I mean.

I actually sat down at the keyboard for a bit and tried to write something, but after an hour or two of staring blankly at the blank screen (a kind of Inception for blankness), I gave it up as hopeless and spent the rest of the evening eating Vieira Bolacha Marie cookies, drinking coffee, and watching one horrifically vapid YouTube video after another.  And before I knew it, it was time for bed.

This gave me the opportunity of laying there and staring up at the ceiling and thinking, “What am I doing with my life?”

Rhetorical questions about the nature of existence are kind of like drinking so much that you think you can take on a Russian wrestling bear. 

You’ll not come out of it unscathed, and in the end the bear will begin to wonder what it is doing with its life.  Therefore, you are sort of like a virus, spreading existential angst to metaphorical Russian wrestling bears.

Is that what you want?

No, it is not.  (For those of you who answered yes, there will be an opportunity for an extra-credit project towards the end of the semester.)

Anyway, what I started out to say is that it is Sunday and a day of rest.   We can cast aside weighty concerns over the nature of existence and instead just relax.  We can ignore the Perpetual List of Never-Ending Chores (PLONC).  We can turn off the TV, tune out the world, become selectively deaf and blind, and dally with inconsequential divertissements.

But what is the nature of leisure, really?



  1. Now here’s a call from the Peppers Hotline:
    “You’re going to turn into an introspective couch potato, examining each of its eyes for specks, if you keep on sitting there. Get up and go for a ramble in your neighborhood. Interact, chat over the fence, compliment their neat yards. Up, up ,and away!”

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’ve always been introspective, though I’ve not always been a couch potato. I’ve just never been particularly comfortable around people. Also, in Dallas suburbia, if one says hello to one’s neighbors, he is looked at with suspicion. No one wants to get to know anyone else here.

      But I shall take your advice and try to get out more often.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Was leisure only invented in the twentieth century? Reinvented perhaps – the Romans knew how to do leisure, but look where that got them! After they left England for good – having never managed to found a leisure industry in Scotland, we forgot how to do leisure until it was reintroduced to us by our friends across the pond… Discuss.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Janet! I believe that most great civilizations were ultimately undone by too much leisure time. We lose our hunger to excel and to better ourselves, and that makes us easy targets for people who ARE hungry and willing to put in the effort to make a better mousetrap. I guess what I’m saying is that we need mice that are much lazier.

      Liked by 1 person

    • I know what you mean! Monday ruins everything. I suppose I am fortunate in a way that yard work in Texas schedules itself. One simply must get out when it is not too hot or tornado-y or whatever to avoid expiring while mowing the yard. Unless one is retired (which I’m not), that leaves Saturday or Sunday morning. Neither prospect pleases, and only the weather is vile.


  3. Sundays are so busy for me, especially now that we have that booth in an antique market–I have to fit that into all the blogging, the shopping, the everything else–maybe it’s time I retire and have some Mondays too! Have a wonderful day of leisure–if you can!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am so jealous! I have always wanted to have a booth in an antique market! I even looked into it a couple of times. However, the costs of the rents for ridiculously small spaces (think refrigerator-sized) put me off. I was hoping to sell off my collection of antique books like that. However, I calculated that the entire worth of my book collection is worth less than two weeks’ rent at an antique mall. So I content myself to just walk around them while trying not to buy more books for my collection.

      I hope yours does well!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, so far I’ve been making more than my rent. Once I retire, I’ll have more time to do some buying, since it’s something I really love. Ken and I used to have booths in several antique markets as well as an online Ebay business when we were younger!

        Liked by 1 person

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