the weekend started off with all good intentions. friday night we were going to go watch some live jazz at a marketplace near to us, but by the time j got home he was cranky as all get-out, tired, uninspired, and there were threatening clouds above. so jazz night was scrapped in favour of vegetating on the couch, doing our best imitation of laying like broccoli.

so saturday dawned, and we had plans to do a big giant shop. for weeks now we’ve been subsisting on what i can fashion out of flour, parsley, and an old tin of coconut milk. i swear, we’ll be the first couple in the world to get malnutrition from sheer laziness.

the day came and went, and neither of us made a move to indicate activity. it was like a silent standoff.

with shopping falling by the wayside through inertia, we made plans to go see a movie *in the theater*, a rare and notable occassion. but as we were stirring towards the door, the neighbours invited us next door for a bbq, and the lure of charred meat nearly at our doorstep proved too much. we feasted and drank until we rolled back home at 2am. all in all, we ventured about 50 feet from our lounge the entire day.

sunday was now designated for shopping. but as if on cue, the sun appeared bright and warm, and i took my book out onto the balcony, intending to catch just a few rays of sun. before I knew it, it was past noon. the neighbours offered up an invite to the park, so we packed up the rest of the bbq meat, a pack of cards, and some stray beers… and spent the rest of the day playing poker under a shady tree, eating cold ribs and wings.

as the sun started to set, our friend mentioned a tescos nearby which was open 24 hours. determined to accomplish *something*, we drove over… only to find the car park deserted and, beneath the big “24 hour” sign, a microscopic disclaimer… “open til 4:00 on sundays.”

taking it as a message from god that we were clearly not meant to shop this particular weekend, we picked up some ice cream from the nearby offie, and headed home with ben & jerry to drown our sorrows.

who am I to question god’s divine intervention? now if he’ll only tell me what to make for dinner…

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