You get to sleep in today. 

The birds and sunlight wake you up instead of the too-eager alarm clock that usually intrudes upon your sleep.  You linger in bed, the soft knitted blanket a cozy hug around you, relishing the open day before you.

It entices you with its lack of a real schedule and, as you mull over potential plans, you resist committing to any firm blueprints for your Saturday.  That would be sacrilege.  In fact, the only thing you're ready to commit to is lingering over a strong cup of coffee on your porch this morning. 

Letting the sun's rays wash over you.  You stand firm, the better to soak up the light, like a lizard or turtle sunning itself, not wanting to move for fear the warm rays will roll off you like water instead of sink under your skin to warm your very bones.

It is entirely possible you will do nothing today.  You say "nothing" for it isn't the splashy outings and big events that weekends are so famous for--the ever important social schedules that let others know how busy or significant you are--but the solitary daydreaming and quiet reading of not-so-serious books, the conjuring in the kitchen or the writing desk.  All this nothing that actually does something: it nourishes the soul and heals the mind and body--and allows you to enjoy a good martini in your pajamas on Saturday night without fuss or ceremony.

Your mind returns to your cup of coffee on the porch.  Your body is full of the sun's caresses, but your coffee mug is in desperate need of a refill.  You turn your thoughts to breakfast--something decadent, a treat after your weekly oatmeal--and the lush enjoyment of a schedule-free day spread out before you.