All talk, No action

Today I slept in, ignored my alarm clock, missed the Farmer's Market [http://www.32ndstreetmarket.org] didn't make breakfast, or lunch, and didn't get out of my pajamas until after 3 p.m.
To put it simply, it was wonderful!

It was gray all day with a heavy threat of rain, a cold breeze has been blowing through the house, scenting everything with that fall smell of wet leaves and damp pavement. I got dressed, got out of the house and as we were on the stoop, our lovely neighbor told us that a real bad storm was coming, enter immediate scurrying on three levels to shut storm windows and lower the flaking double hung warped wood windows down inside of them. The rain started as we were driving through the city and the smell of fall leaves hung like a heavy perfume.

We were on a mission to buy a new refrigerator, the current one pisses freezer water all over the interior of the fridge compartment, we could get it repaired but who knows how much that will cost, and the ice cubes taste like used dental floss anyway. Luckily, we received a house-warming present in the form of a gift card and with Energy Star rebates, we are now in the market for a new fridge! I have been eyeing a 21 cubic ft Samsung model for some time now, it's quite pricey for our budget but I am adamant about having a bottom freezer/ top fridge. So my Saturday was spent dreamily wandering the aisles of our local home improvement mega-store, stuffing paint sample cards in my purse like a klepto and sizing up step ladders. We're scheduled for a refrigerator delivery and haul away on Sunday, WOOT!
So after my jubilant consumer experience I am sipping wine on my back porch, smoking my tasty deathly cigarettes and I hear a raucous party going on 3 row homes down. I think, "Hey I should go check it out!" in my flannel pajama pants and threadbare V neck tee, it would be fun right? Then all of sudden I hear a veritable Greek choros of young drunk absolutely white girls start belting out the words to the theme song of the 90's sitcom Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and as the strains of Yo Holmes Smell Ya Later reach my ears I'm reaching for another glass of wine and turning back to my book of poetry for underachieving community college students, and am steadfast in my appraisal that I am fine just right where I am.