Cancelling My Plans

Yay?

 “Snow Day!!” I recall my reaction to those words back in my childhood. As I heard the school closing number of my district come up on the radio (remember those?), I’d rejoice. A day to loll about in jammies, drinking hot cocoa! To cavort in the brisk, snow-blanketed outdoors, sledding and skating and building many a jolly snowperson! Curl up with a good book! Bake cookies! Oh, mine were grand plans!

 

But that excitement rapidly devolved into crashing boredom. Too cold to go outside, for cavorting or any other purposes, no cocoa and no cookie fixings in the pantry. By 1 PM, as I sat tuned to “As The World Turns” while idly scanning yet another tabloid tale about Liz Taylor’s wedding #12, I was yearning for the lively school days of diagramming sentences and winning spelling bees. Even being picked last for kickball was suddenly appealing. 

 

I grew into a conflicted adult, who delighted in a full calendar of coming events, but delighted even more when she could cross those events off that calendar, unattended. That downtown concert I’d so eagerly anticipated? Traffic! Parking issues! Crowded venue! Sitting next to a cougher! BEING that cougher! So stressful, and such a huge relief when the featured artist had to cancel! Oh, joy—now I could sit around all evening doing…absolutely nothing. Yawn. Wish I was at a concert or something!

 

At work, I envied stay at home moms no end—until I spent any time as one. Answering to a boss? Or catering to Boss Baby? Much as I loved my kiddos (and, often, my job) it was a rare day when I could honestly say that I didn’t wish I was elsewhere. 

 

And now I have at last reached the advanced age where I have automatic permission to flake out on plans. Disco dancing (is that still a thing?) is a giant NO for me, ditto anything involving physical activity of any kind, including stairs. I used to tsk-tsk to see Steve’s mom dozing off in her recliner; these days, I long to be a recliner-bound snoozer myself. And I could get away with it now, because at age 69, I believe I’ve earned the right to be completely idle. When I hear of senior cruises and lecture series and Zumba classes, I think: “You busy busy old people are spoiling retirement for the rest of us! Slow down, for Heaven’s sake, and take a nap!”

 

But then I get my wish, and, as my family bustles off and I am left alone in the peace and quiet, all I want is to run after their car and beg to go along. 

 

There must be a way to live serenely in the present moment, content with whatever is on my docket. I think about this during my daily meditation time, when I’m supposed to not be thinking at all, I think.  

 

Meanwhile, on this January snow day, the grass is still greener. 

 

Or whiter, as the case may be.

I gotta get out of here!