What a difference a little sunshine makes in one’s mood.
I got up this morning feeling tired and headache-y. I wanted to sleep forever. (Not that this is anything new. I always wake up tired and wanting more sleep.) My room is on the north side of the house, and with prevailing northwest winds in our neighbourhood, perpetually cold in winter, so I didn’t want to get out from under the covers, either.
But I did. I dragged myself out of bed and herded all the cats downstairs as quietly as possible for breakfast, so that BDH (he of the midnight soccer games) could sleep in. This is no easy feat, I can tell you — particularly now that Opus is off the 30-day disabled list. She is very imperious when she wants something, particularly food. Her yelling wakes me up, and most nights, I can sleep through the University of Moose Jaw Marching Band. Cinnamon, on the other hand, has a sole mission each and every day: to get in the bedroom and on top of the bed and, likely, lick BDH’s head in strangely adorable attempt at cleaning and grooming him. (“Pyew, Daddy — you are STINKY.”) And then there’s Lucy, who is a one-kitty herd, who takes any opportunity to tackle her sisters and then gallop thunderously around the house. So it takes a lot of shushing and whispered “no no!”-ing and cajoling to get them down to the kitchen quietly.
But we went downstairs, and I pulled the drapes in the kitchen. My eyes were assaulted by brilliant morning sunshine, the kind of sunshine you can only get on bitterly cold mid-winter days. I stood in the window a moment and just basked in it. The heat from the sun was warming the tiles beneath my feet. My mood began to smooth out. Cinnamon came and stood beside me, blinking out at the sunshine twinkling on the snow. But the the enraged howl of the starving shorthaired domesticated house diva (Bubby) brought us back to the task at hand.
After dishing up breakfast (low protein canned food with a spoonful of pumpkin puree mixed in — YUMMM!!) I started to make myself a pot of coffee. Normally I make about half a pot, enough to fill two giant mugs. But this morning, I made 3/4 of a pot, enough for an extra. I made myself a big, creamy, sweet mug of coffee using French Vanilla creamer (Fie on you Kelly and your International Delights that are not international!), walked over the dining room/living room/room-to-be-designed-later, and stretched out on the carpet with a newspaper. The room was bright and sunny, I had a paper and tasty warm coffee, and Cinnamon settled in purring beside me, and we read the paper.
I have decided that, despite the fact that I no longer go off to work during the week, weekend mornings are still wonderfully luxurious. They are times to be enjoyed (particularly now, before we have kids). But on mornings like today, with a cold wind buffetting the house outside, and us safe and warm inside with brilliant sunshine streaming in and a relaxing pursuit to enjoy, with nowhere to go and nothing to do… it’s as perfect a start to the day as one could ask for.