Fainéant

Late Sunday morning.
Lying in.
Grey, uncharacteristically cool.
Book in hand.
Ceiling fan whirling softly in the background.
Halted reading momentarily.
Pricked up my ears and listened.
In the relative peace,
Sounds that I've not noticed before;
Birds chirping.
From the road just next to the flat,
An occasional car zooming by.
The vroom-vroom of motorcycle engines from the carpark.
I turned back to my book.

Early Sunday afternoon.
The sun's decided it's time to show her face.
Beating down on the concrete walls.
I turned up the fan.
The noise it generated increased as its speed went up.
The feathery singers have gone quiet now.
Probably hiding from the heat.
The road's busier.
Buses pulling into the stop.
Zoom, zoom.
The four- and two-wheeled speeding by.
Yawn.
A full stretch; almost feline.
Grrrr...
That's my stomach, demanding to be fed.
I removed myself reluctantly from the comfortable bed.
It's time to start the day.