With the bulk of my social engagements for the weekend complete by very early Saturday morning, I was looking at a deliciously lazy weekend ahead of me.
With the apartment full of early springtime flowers
(Crocuses on the kitchen table)
(Lilacs in my favorite mint julep cup)
I felt absolutely sure that I was setting myself up for some indulgent downtime.
As an aside, have you ever noticed that everyone in creation talks to you when you are carrying a large bouquet of flowers (particularly lilacs) down the street? For those finding it hard to meet someone in New York, I highly recommend wandering the streets on a sunny weekend day with armfuls of these fragrant purple blossoms.
Saturday was largely consumed with errands but Sunday, oh Sunday! After an early night on Saturday I arose early, relishing the peace and quiet that occurs at this time of day, with the sun just beginning to glow behind the buildings opposite my apartment. I nursed a mug of PG Tips while perusing the Sunday New York Times, interrupted only by the periodic need to tend to my hot cross buns (only a week late!).
Presently, perhaps roused by the aroma of said hot cross buns, Paul awoke and we devoured these tasty little treats in tandem. Clotilde, on whose website I found the recipe, once again outdid herself. I would encourage any white chocolate-phobes not to be put off by the ingredient list for this recipe. Perhaps white chocolate is the tacky cousin to milk chocolate, which is in turn the tacky sibling to dark chocolate, but somehow in this context, accompanied by dates and pistachios, it just works. It happily becomes a bit like caramel.
Fully sated, Paul and I headed up to Soho House for a noontime screening of the Hurt Locker. I had expected it to be so depressing so as to ruin my day, but oddly I didn't find it to be so. I carried on with the rest of my day with various bits of the film popping up in my thoughts, but not in any particularly disturbing way.
Eventually I made it back downtown with the intention of starting in on some spring cleaning, my closet being target one. But this beautifully written book (and the sunny roof deck) were calling out to me...
...and the closet would have to wait.