Sacrilege and Laziness (i.e., just my average Sunday)

Once again, I decided to skip the trip back to Wisconsin for Easter and spent the weekend with my urban family instead. For the second year in a row, my sister and I gathered a group of friends at Nye's for a Heathens and Easter Orphans Brunch. There were, I'm sure, several differences between our Easter buffet and the one my parents and grandmother likely had at a supper club back home. Nye's per-person price is twice as high (and I had to pay my share out of my own wallet rather than letting my dad foot the bill), but the food was immeasurably better, and I saw no diners whose idea of Easter Sunday Best was Packer sweats or a flannel shirt. It's probably also a fair guess that the conversation at my parents' table didn't turn to someone's former employment as a phone sex actress, nor that my very Catholic mother would have appreciated my sister's boyfriend's Jewish humor as he explained how he likes to watch The Ten Commandments because "Every year, my people win!"

I'm sure the Catholic people who raised me would also be disappointed that on this holiest of all days, my closest brush with anything Biblical was an adherence to that "On the seventh day, He rested" bit. Good idea with that one, God; I'm totally with you on that. After stuffing myself at brunch, I spent the next four hours parked near-immobile on my couch. It's now been five hours since my last feeding, and my stomach is feeling only the slightest twinge of wanting me to add anything to it to possibly top it off.

It's not just the binging that spawned my laziness today, though. I don't know what's wrong with me, but the past few days, despite the lovely spring weather, I've been feeling like a sloth. When I left the restaurant after brunch, I was actually glad to see that the sky was cloudy and there were rain drops on my car. I figured rain gave me a free pass to stay in and do nothing, guilt-free. Now, however, the clouds have cleared and the wind has died down, and it looks by all signs to be a gorgeous, sunny day. I'm still not outside breathing fresh air into my lungs, however. Instead, I'm sitting at my computer and I'm staring out my window, thinking "I should build a patio."

The patio idea wasn't prompted by any urge to entertain; I'm not suddenly envisioning fabulous barbecues and lively summer get-togethers with intimate groups of friends. No, like so many ideas I conjure up and then abandon, this one follows a progressive string from Thought A. to Thought E. that is logical, likely, to no one but me. In this case, it went something like this: (A. It's such a nice day. I should really get outside and do something to enjoy it. (B. But what am I going to do out there? I don't feel like taking a walk; I don't want to clean the dust off my bike and pump the tires for a ride. I can't just sit out there, can I? Don't only old people do that? (C. If I had some proper lawn furniture, I could sit out there without feeling like a fool. If I had a real patio table and actual patio chairs, rather than the sad little cheap and uncomfortable green plastic chairs I've had since my "apartments with balconies" days, then I could sit outside and have a drink and do nothing, and it would look totally normal. (D. But if I had proper lawn furniture, I'd have to drag every heavy piece of it out of the way each time I mow. That would be a pain in the ass. That would be no fun. (E. If only I had a patio... The proper furniture could stay there, out of the way of the mower, off the grass where the bugs live... That would be an excellent solution. I should build a patio.

Does anyone else see a problem with this plan? I want a place to sit and do nothing, and I want to have this place while also avoiding any unnecessary additional effort when doing yard work. Obviously, the core driver in this patio idea is laziness. But building a patio is hard work. Hard work that the frugal (i.e., poor) girl I am would feel compelled to take on herself rather than hire someone more qualified to do. Laziness and patio-building do not go hand in hand. Hence, the patio idea will likely end here. It was a lovely thought while it lasted, however. Maybe a hammock is a more appropriate option to pursue. Do hammocks come with cupholders? I think further investigation is in order...