Aimless

Here it is, late Friday afternoon on a beautiful day in July. I am done with work and, what's more, I have no work to do over the weekend. I have no plans for the weekend. My husband is at work until 8, and just about every friend I can think of is off doing something on his/her own.

I have no idea what in the hell to do with myself.

Sure, there are things I could do:

• Pick up the clothes bomb in the spare bedroom.
• Pay a few bills and put away the paper detritus all over the desk.
• Water the transplanted azalea that is shriveled and brown.
• Take the sheets off the futon where our friend P. stayed for the last two nights.
• Pick up crazy Lucy, my sister's pooch, who will be our house guest this weekend.
• Read one of the many magazines to which I subscribe. Or today's Boston Globe. Or, like, a book.
• Wash out the multitude of product that the hairdresser put in my hair.
• Go for a run. The 10k is in eight days, and I haven't run since Sunday. Bad MC.

But none of those sound particularly appealing to me. And so I sit here, anxiously surfing from blog to blog, looking for something interesting with which to fritter away my time. And then D. will get home in a few hours and I'll be all pissed and grumpy that I did nothing with my several hours of quiet.

So, with that, I'm headed upstairs to change my clothes, then I'll grab the iPod and head out for a run. Here's hoping I can maintain my sanity during an entire weekend with nothing particular to do.