When I was little, I used to get up really early on Saturday mornings. I'd sneak down the stairs with my little bare feet and quietly turn on the TV. Then I'd go into the kitchen and climb up on the counter top to get a bowl out of the cabinet. Next, I'd scoot a chair over to the pantry. If I stood on my very tippy toes in the that chair, I could just reach the cereal box. Then I'd carefully pour the cereal and milk into the bowl and plop down in front of the TV to watch cartoons. It would seem like hours before anyone would join me. Early Saturday mornings, for so many people, are mornings to sleep in. Not for me. I may not sit about and watch cartoons any more, but I still get up early. It's my favorite part of the day. It's the quiet part of the day. I can get up early, stop by the local cafe for coffee and a bagel and see the city as it begins to rub the sleep crumbs from its eyes. I share these mornings with runners and elderly couples. As I drive down Main street to the farmer's market, the homeless begin to make their way to their day spots. There's the man that talks to himself and points at cars as he illegally crosses the street. There's the lady with the big hat walking her cat on a leash. And sometimes, on occasion, you can see a man pushing a baby stroller of puppies. There's just so much someone could miss while sleeping in.
Now Sundays on the other hand, Sundays are the leisure days. Particularly the rainy ones.