Expectation vs Reality: Lazy Sundays Mornings
I realize I’m not an outlier in this, but I have automatic Sunday blues once it hits past 10 o’clock. If I haven’t tried to go to the gym, make a runny egg breakfast, or call my mom before that time, then I already feel like I wasted my day.
I know what you’re thinking, “clearly this writer has some sort of stick up her butt.” And I can only reply with sage nods and a “yes. Yes I do.”
Why deny it, really?
So today, I tried to embody the typical New York lazy Sunday. To me that was bringing the Sunday paper to a cafe and sitting and reading all morning, possibly doing the crossword, which has a tendency to make me feel like I’m the noob who’s not part of an inside joke. No seriously. Who’s the Russian composer known for being a big proponent for musical nationalism? 3 Down?
It seemed easy enough. I broke it down into a 3-step Sunday Guide. Please note, that it actually could be a 2-step or even a 1-step guide. I’m not sure why I broke it down. I just have a thing for 3’s and overthinking.
Step 1: Bring your Sunday paper
Picture this— you filling out the Sunday crossword with ease, because obviously if you are filling it out (successfully) you’ve also read the whole pack of print (also successfully)
Right, so I don’t have a Sunday subscription or any subscription other than my Netflix (and even that isn’t mine). M technically had a subscription to Vogue for a few months because the online florist where he bought my anniversary flowers stole his info. I was really happy with the flowers and the subsequent unwanted magazines to be perfectly honest, but M later looked it up and realized that the online florist was a scam. This has created a distrust for web florists from M and a residual resentment for them from me because now the possibility of any surprise bouquets is squashed.
That being said, if you don’t have the Sunday NYT, you can buy it for— I just googled this— five dollars? You can’t hear it but I gasped. When I was 13 and babysitting, five dollars got you a paperback book! Five dollars can get you a nice McDonald’s sandwich without a drink or fries. Five dollars is what I figured sitting at a cafe would cost for this Sunday excursion. What is this? Seriously, we’re doing something wrong, you guys.
I just googled “were newspapers always expensive?”
I guess you can bring your phone, but you’re perpetuating this five dollar nonsense.
Step 2: Find a Sunny Cafe
My mind-image is me sitting al fresco or maybe by a nice, large window, possibly open because it’s an anticipatory cool that only autumn feels can bring.
Sadly, I do not live near many cafes. Yeah, being in New York, it’s hella surprising to come across a cafe desert but I guess I’m Columbus* for this new coffeehouse free area.
*I also don’t like Columbus. But he works for the sake of that sentence
M and I walked around our neighborhood, trying to find a new spot. We usually like to sit at this bakery near our apartment because it has outdoor seating in the warm months, but I didn’t want to get too comfortable there. It was ephemeral anyway. What was I going to do once winter came?
We didn’t find one. We walked 10 blocks north of us, an avenue over, and we only found one cafe that wasn’t a restaurant or wasn’t a Starbucks. It had a glorious case of sweets and a large selection of fancy coffees combinations, but everyone else was clearly a pro at this whole Sunday business because the place was packed. The teeny cafe tables outside had people writing in notebooks and laptops. Inside, the long tables were already filled with a mishmosh mix of people sitting with other people. The tables deeper in had more laptop sitters but by then there was no window or natural light or vitamin D.
So M and I ended up going to a restaurant nearby. It had some outdoor seating, and I figured we could still order coffee and sit for a few hours if I left a really good tip. It was pretty empty too so I didn’t think it would be too rude of us.
Sure it was near the bus stop, and sure the bus was really loud and obnoxious, and sure the sun was pounding really hard on us while we sat there . . . but I counted that as a check off my list.
Step 3: Drink Coffees
I for one love those latte photos on Instagram. Maybe it’s because I’m a recovering coffee addict or maybe I just like the idea of getting shit done in organized-flatlay fashion.
Honestly, I’m nowrealizing that we technically accomplished a lot off this self-made-guide. I’m feeling quite accomplished.
We just ordered coffees but we had that deep seeded Catholic guilt so entrenched in my default emotions. They were obviously expecting brunch-goers so we felt bad— yes, despite there being plenty of room for seats. And then, slowly brunch babes and couples nearby started to get Mimosa-induced chatty so we felt even more like an outlier. That and with the waitress’ kind habit of checking on us, we felt worse and worse as we sunk into our seats with our silly lone coffees.
M didn’t feel like pulling open his book. And I didn’t really want to hang around further so we left and went home.
So I’m out $16. I never got the crossword done. And I’m slightly embarrassed by this quest— possibly because I got weird grumps at foolishly not being able to find a place close by. Where the crap are all those people going? This is a thing right? Or is everyone just lying?
You have to be. That was more work than a Sunday needed.
The answer to my composer question is Mily Balakirev by the way. So take that.
