Vacation Days Remaining: 12

There's nothing like a day spent at home that was supposed to be spent at work. Waking up at a time usually reserved for meetings and hurried phone calls. Spending hours lounging in bed, long after the alarm never went off. It's easy to love these days when the sun is out, the temperatures are up and mental to-do lists consist of popping in and out of record stores and early afternoon drinking on some Brooklyn bar back patio. The idyllic neighborhood hopping - traveling between boroughs and leaving responsibility behind.

Even overcast mornings, like this morning, look better at 10 from my living room window on a Monday that isn't a national holiday. There's a beauty that comes from an extra day of rest, even when spent strolling through a light rain with arms full of groceries. Folding laundry at mid-day, listening to the drone of the dryers while the laundromat owner gently hums a soft tune to herself. The beautiful, calming peacefulness of paying attention to the little things. The freedom of forgetting everything else.

I find myself treasuring slow moments in a city that's frequently exhausting. I could be stomping puddles in the Village, indulging in some coffee shop's free Wi-Fi or exploring one of the several museums I still haven't made it to in three and a half years. None of that, however, sounds as good as reclining in my living room as vinyl spins on my turntable, amusing myself at the fact that I was actually at this party but don't remember anyone filming.

Happy Monday to me. It's time to lounge, relax and be merry for days off are too short, Tuesday will be here before long and reality will come crashing in with it.