After a week of over time on a special project (I would love to share, but work = insurance = I would have to bring you espresso before I relayed the details) I was dreaming of the weekend by Tuesday, so when it finally came around I couldn't have been happier. We caught up on sleep after Mister's birthday party, he ate rice krispie squares for breakfast to ease into being twenty nine, and I left messages for my little sister half way around the world.
There were late nights and late mornings, getting to know a new lens I've been eying for forever, and a craft room thoroughly de-cluttered. I hid out from the rain on Saturday, planted my garden on Sunday (FINALLY!) and plotted against the current paint colour in the living room, while sounds of the World Cup floated through the house. I even curled up on the porch with a neighbourhood cat who adopted us for a couple of days. (I named her Lily.)
This was one of those summer weekends where our little house felt like it was a million miles from the rest of the world. Like for a few days, instead of being in the middle of the city our house backed onto a lake and the sounds of the trains running by at night were really the sounds of waves rushing up to shore. During the week that feeling fades away in favour of traffic, packed lunches, and errands, but on the weekend that feeling is priceless.
If only it could last a few moments longer…