Most Fridays I have a vision of me spending the weekend reading. It rarely comes to fruition, but there is something so calming about just the thought of two days lost in books that I still fantasize about it before every weekend begins.
This weekend I actually did it. Hour after hour I just read, and it was pure bliss. I realize weekends like this are few and far between, and another one may not be spent this way for a long time. But I'll still imagine that every weekend can be this way, and I'll be thankful for the ones that are.
(I should also add my thankfulness for a husband who doesn't mind having a bookish wife. Kegan dutifully did most of the errands this weekend, and didn't mind when I barely murmured responses to his questions and comments. I do love reading, but I love Kegan more).