This morning, I’m living like it’s a Saturday instead of the Wednesday of a very busy week. I’m living like I’ve got all the time in the world and Sunday to spare.

If I’m living a Saturday sort of Wednesday, tasks typically saved for a Saturday morning feel just as do-able on a Wednesday before work. I can start tonight’s dinner, change the sheets, and tidy up some of the things that are down. There’s no stress on a Saturday sort of Wednesday – in fact, it’s a little comforting to set things to right. Some sort of mid-week coziness and delight in the ordinary. A momentary stay against busy.

There’s a sense of leisure on a Saturday sort of Wednesday. The realization that work can wait. That work almost always gets the best and most of me. That sometimes … sometimes … I want to give the rest of my life a turn. Make room for the writer, maybe. Show up for the part of me that feels better – feels best – when life slows to a Saturday sort of pace.

The difference lies, I think, in the decision making. In the perspective taking. In the understanding that I am in charge of my own life and how I choose, or need, to live it.

I know Wednesday’s really only a few minutes and a shower away. Just now though, I’m enjoying another cup of coffee — like it’s a Saturday.