A Do Nothing Day

Sometimes you just need a do-nothing kind of day.  Today was that day.  I had spent the day doing nothing.  And the less I did, the less I wanted to do.  And the less I wanted to do, the less I did.

As the day wore on, I began to feel like an old fashioned wind up toy.  When my clock work finally ground to a halt, I climbed into my bed for an afternoon nap.  I might have stayed there all day if Ken hadn’t put his foot down.

“You need to get up and move around.” He said.  I gave him my “don’t mess with me when I’m tired and grumpy” look.  But he wasn’t deterred.

“You should go out for a quick run.”  He said.

If my evil look wasn’t working, I’d have to try a different tactic to get Ken off my back.  I turned my excuse-o-meter to high.  “There’s still snow on the ground.”  I tried.

“It’s almost fifty degrees outside.” He countered.

“It’s too windy.”  I whined.

“A nice breeze will feel good when you’re running.”

I groaned.  “Fine.  I’ll go.  But I’m not going to like it.”  Arguing with Ken was too much work.  So I pulled on my exercise clothes and headed out doors. 

My feet pounded the familiar pattern.  As I ran, I looked around.  There were kids playing basketball across the street.  A man walking his dog smiled at me.  A bird landed in a barren tree and chirped.

The more I ran, the more I appreciated what Ken had done for me.  He could have let me wallow in my slump.  He could have let me nap all day.  Instead, he gently pushed me out the door and into the sunshine.

I feel lucky that Ken and I have learned, over the years, how to challenge and prod each other.  I feel lucky that Ken cares enough to tell me to get moving when he knows that I need it.  I feel lucky to have someone who will think about what is best for me even when I don’t want to.

Twenty minutes later, my run was over.  I walked into the house and pulled off my sneakers. 

Ken smiled at me smugly.  “I bet you feel a lot better.” He said.

“I do.” I smiled back.