I normally keep a decently neat house. This is partly because I like a neat house and partly because there’s not all that much stuff in the house to keep neat. I haven’t accumulated all the knick-knacks that come with long residence in a house, nor do I have older or seasonal items stored in the garage or closets. And I like it this way.

But some days, I take pleasure in NOT keeping house. Take today, for example. Every time I walked through the kitchen and saw my breakfast dishes in the sink or the detritus of coffee making on the counter, every time I wandered down the hall and saw the unmade bed, and every time I snuggled back into my indentation in the couch, I was reminded that today was my day off from everything. Every unwashed dish represented a few minutes of guiltless indolence. Every wrinkled blanket attested to a morning spent doing as much as possible of nothing at all.

Tomorrow, life will start up again with all the chores and errands of housekeeping, prepping for work, and leading the choir, baking, plus the necessary preparations for a Christmas that is coming so much more quickly than I could have imagined possible. But for today, vacation reigns supreme in this household. Everyone’s done more sitting, sleeping, and lying around than anything else, secure in the knowledge that the dishes will keep until tomorrow.