Prompts:
1. Irresponsible

2. Not yet

3. There’s a plate that holds my past

BEGIN WRITING:

Saturday in spring is a time to sleep an extra hour, to dawdle over one more cup of coffee, or enjoy the extravagance of hot chocolate just this once. It’s a day to walk around barefoot and uncombed, to search for crocuses among the weeds, to check the calendar and punch DELETE half a dozen times. Saturday in spring is a delight for the senses and a respite from the rest of the week.

Saturday is not for girding the loins, gathering the credit cards, and mounting an expedition through Home Depot among the millions of weekend enthusiasts with their dreams full of decks and gazebos and their carts full of lumber and nails. I used to be one of them, but I outgrew it.

It may all come around again. One day I might awaken with a surplus of energy and a faulty estimate of the time it might take to build something wonderful.

Not yet. Not now, not here, not as long as I have a shred of common sense left to me.

My husband says I’m irresponsible and lazy, but his opinion was offered while I was bandaging two of his fingers after his unfortunate encounter with a grinding wheel. I choose to accept the physical evidence rather than the verbal.

The last time I really endeavored to complete any type of home improvement project I was newly married and still entranced by the idea of sharing quality time with Jeff. When he suggested that the two of us could create an oasis in our backyard with a few bricks and a blueprint for a Model BQ427 Permanent Barbecue Grill, I was only too glad to hop in the truck and accompany him to the Curly’s Hardware store on 87th St.

It was a Saturday, I remember, sometime in March. The air was soft and the wispy clouds drifting somewhere off to the north were just a gentle complement to the blue of the sky. We had the whole weekend free. By Sunday evening, we’d be ready to invite the next door neighbors for burgers and beer. I pulled the little notepad from my purse and added charcoal and lighter fluid to our shopping list.

By the time we got to Curly’s and pulled into the lot, the temperature was rising at an alarming rate. I almost suggested that we put the project off for a week or two, but once Jeff had his mind made up there was not much that could stop him.

We found a parking spot at the east

PENCILS DOWN

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