I love my weekends. On Friday evening, I do just a little more studying and then stow all my books, notebooks, highlighters, and pens away for a few days in their cubby. I clean the kitchen, let the hedgie out to explore and search for crunchy spiders to munch, put on a touch of lipstick, and maybe fiddle for a bit. Will arrives late at night, shuffling through the front door with his bags, stomping snow from his boots. He always swoops me up for a kiss that’s half a smile, his nose cold. We stay up late watching movies and raiding the fridge together.
Saturday mornings are for watching cartoons and sleeping in. Then, adventures! It’s getting trickier to find adventure the longer I’m here in Kingston. I’m getting better at making adventures happen in the most ordinary of circumstances. We’ve walked the downtown area almost every weekend for a year and a half now. There’s a strange comfort that comes with familiarity. I know each of the shops well. I know what dishes I like at the restaurants. Strangest of all, people know me. The woman who owns our favorite coffee shop asks us what we’re going to draw today when Will and I walk in. They’ve stopped asking if we want whipped cream on our hot chocolate. Of course we do. What kind of question is that?
But at the same time, the familiarity is starting to slowly kill me inside. I’m not meant to settle, not yet. I find myself wasting study time on dreams of van life or travel. I’ll get distracted by travel photos as I do my social media work. Kingston is ideal, full of history and life and opportunities for fun. But I’m addicted to a constant change of scene. I can’t wait to finish school, get my slip of paper, and have the freedom to uproot whenever I want to.
Still, we manage to find adventure. We poke around the local thrift shop, dig up a coupon for $3 slushies (Will spilled my lime slushie all over his jeans. He looked like a Ghost Busters victim), or order pizza downtown. Somehow, no matter how mundane our days, we always have way too much fun together.
Sundays are much like Saturdays, with sleepy mornings hiding from the sun beneath my pastel blue comforter. I moved the mattress to the living room this week. The two small bedrooms in my apartment don’t get heat. So, as winter moves in, so does the cold. Clove the Hedgehog and I do fine, so long as we keep those doors tightly closed. Now I wish I’d moved my mattress sooner. Half of my living room is a comfortable lounge, now. Can’t beat this nap space!
It’s Monday now, and I’m heading into two weeks of finals and end of term crappiness before the delightful Christmas season. I’m studied up and just about ready. My final projects are nearly complete. My students are starting to write about Christmas-themed topics in anticipation of the big day. I’ve started cleaning the most annoying parts of my apartment in preparation for my mid-December move. I have a scary doctor’s appointment to talk about my joint issues (4+ years of them and constant pain for the last month or two) this afternoon. This is life. Good bits, bad bits, and the occasional mouse in the closet. Bring it on.