December 22, 2007
I was a happily idle person yesterday, the first of my winter holiday from teaching. I willingly trifled away many hours. In the early morning, I exercised, as usual, by climbing the hills around my house, but my pace was more relaxed than usual, more like strolling than striding. I actually dawdled a little under the starry winter sky, just taking in the silent peacefulness of the coming dawn. I suppose my heart-rate rose a little as I walked, but only in a lazy way. Later in the morning, I did some errands around town, but again, I sort of loafed through them. People who saw me may have thought I was just a shiftless old man, someone who perhaps needed help crossing a street, but in my heart I was rejoicing in my sluggishness. I was happy to notice the trees swaying ever so slowly in the breeze, because that’s exactly the way I went about my errands. In the afternoon, I simply loitered in the pages of a Jane Austen novel. I didn’t so much read the pages as whiled them away, lazily following one lovely sentence after another. I may have been a sluggard of a reader, but at least I was a happy one.