Luxurious laziness

I can't remember the last time I spent a lazy weekend here in LA. Doing nothing. Lounging all day long in comfies with unwashed hair and glasses on. Wandering outside only for Peet's coffee and to allow the sunlight to warm my face, just for a while.

Well, this weekend was that sort of weekend. Nothing but good things and simple stuff and even as I type this now, I have some sort of urge to just hold on to it, as tightly as I can. After all, these types of days are rare and if they weren't so rare, I'd be clawing for something to do, like a mime in a cage. I'm flustered when busy (always) and get all the more antsy when I have no agenda. So it is.

I made dinner for a friend on Friday evening and then we wandered down to my local bar and I watched, amused, as he roamed the bar, singing Black Eyed Peas and trying to pick up girls. Later that night, sometime around 2 a.m., we delighted in bites of cheesecake and fresh strawberries and stayed up late talking. He talks quite loudly and I had to shhhh him, more than once, for fear of waking my roommate. He fell asleep on my couch, snoring happily. He awoke on Saturday morning with strawberry stains on his shirt and a massive hangover.

Brunch on Saturday in the Montana neighborhood with work friends. The French toast at Blue Plate is killer, it's the challah bread, it's gotta be. After, one friend and I moseyed on down to the 3rd Street area and I found myself at Hennessey's Books--art and architecture, baby! I could have stayed there all day, curled up among the books, not even reading, just happy to smell them and live among the paper and ink. I picked up a book I've been eyeing for a while, ever since I toured the Gamble House back in January, a coffee table-esque read on LA homes.

And then, well, I just read. All day. Nearly all night. Until 11 p.m. when I showered and threw on a sundress and headed north to Pasadena for drinks with mon frere and his entourage. I passed by the lights of downtown and I imagined the people squished on street corners and huddled within the caverns. I imagined the restaurant, bright and shiny and new, with its chrome-metal sign hung, just perfect, and its flag waving cheerfully outside on Spring Street.

And today, I read. And read. And read.

My current reading list:

Still reading.