Quietness is bliss.

It's Saturday morning. As I sit here on the couch in my Calvin Klein undies drinking a cup of chocolate macadamia nut coffee, I'm realizing a few things. Other than hearing my husband's snoring in the distance and the quiet hum of the refridgerator, my house is blissfully peaceful. Coffee seems to taste better when you have a minute to enjoy it, rather than when I'm flying down the interstate pretending to be a driver in the INDY 500 so that I'm on time for work. The plants in my window seats are basking in the summer sun. What a life- to be able to soak up the sun's rays all day and not have to slap on SPF 4,000 and worry about skin cancer. I observe all of this because I think my "quiet" Saturday mornings are numbered. I may not have the time or patience soon to think about whether the ducks that come to my back deck every morning prefer white bread or whole wheat bread. Or if my landscaping is sufficient enough for them to hide their eggs from predators. Who knows? I'm sure I will discover a whole new meaning to the word "bliss," but today, this morning, it's quietness.