STARS GONE BLUE MY GEORGIA I STILL LOVE YOU

There were towels ready to come out of the dryer for folding and sheets in the washing machine ready for drying. I needed to search the internet for a dinner plan. I had planned on making a curry, but I needed guidance on what spices to use and how much. There were things that needed to be done, but here I was lounging in my hammock. I found that I could gently rock my hammock by reaching over my head and grabbing the hammock stand and giving it a shove with my fingers. I would gently rock my hammock side to side while my eyes drifted close. "Someone should make one of those timer contraptions like what's on those baby swings for swinging hammocks on hammock stands." I told this to Josephine because she was the only one around at the time when the thought entered my head. 

There was (is) a dime sized blister on the pad of my right thumb. I kept pressing my index finger to it, feeling the raw sore layer of skin now exposed because the blister had broken. It is proof of the work I did that morning. I watched a bright red cardinal jump into the honeysuckle that had started to grow along the top of the fence. I could see bits of red as he foraged around inside and wondered if maybe there was a nest tucked in there. I felt certain that if I got up and moved some of the vines away, I'd see a nest with three little eggs. I pulled on the hammock stand again, swinging my hammock. I stopped thinking about the things I should be doing and closed my eyes to the sun shining on my face.  Michael finished mowing the front yard. He cleaned off the mower and then dragged a chair over to where I laid in my hammock. 

We chatted about nothing. I told Michael my idea about the automatic hammock swinger. He told me about his idea for a privacy fence and new driveway. We talked about food for Michael's graduation party and what or if we should do anything about backyard lighting. I might hang some lights on the clothes line so no one runs into it. I tell Michael about the cardinal I saw in the honeysuckle. He tells me about how he mowed the front yard twice. We are quiet for a minute. That minute stretches to two, five, enough to feel like hours pass by as I swing myself in my hammock. Finally I tell him that it should be prescribed that I spend at least one hour out of every weekend in my hammock. Michael agrees whole heartedly. He already thinks that I don't sit still for long enough periods of time, buzzing around from chore to chore. There's always something that needs to be done. 

The clouds thicken and the wind shifts from light breeze to windy, bringing a chill with it. This is my cue. I peel myself out of my hammock, unhook it from the stand and fold it up as I carry it back inside to finish the things that need to be done.