I’ve been called all sorts of things in my life. Most names aren’t appropriate for this family-friendly collection of funny thoughts, but “restless” is one that stands out among the many cuss words.
I never took offense. For me, restless is the polar opposite of the repulsive alternative—stagnant. So I’ve spent the years early rising, overbooking and cleaning things with the precision of a meth-addict. The worst of this tendency appears on weekends where agendas are carefully calculated for maximum joy and efficiency. Ten whiskey shots on Saturday means a ten-mile bike ride on Sunday morning. The theory is, essentially, that it all balances out as long as there’s a motivational blueprint.
And then this past Sunday snuck up on me. The fridge was stocked. The house and car were clean. And no plans were made.
The question was asked, “What do you want to do today?”
I thought it over for a second as rays of sunshine lit up the bedroom and birds chirped outside. I had a crazy idea. An unexpected answer that felt funny on the tip of my tongue.
“Nothing. Let’s just hang out…maybe barbecue some chicken legs.”
And so it was. Things were nice, not epic. Now I have big plans for this coming weekend. The first order of business? No business at all.