Not Much Here but the Rain

New month. I want to try a new font. Why? Because I can. 

Welcome to December! How crazy is it that this year has flown by so fast? I cannot understand how time seems to slip faster and faster as I get older. Do you not remember when summer seemed forever? And counting down the days of December until Christmas was nigh unbearable? 
It is scary, to be honest. This is the only life I can remember because of all that veil business before I was born and it makes my heart contract in pain to think of what will come next. I know all will be well but how does one get used to the idea of eternity? Think on it too much and your brain starts to spin and hurt and feel as though it just might have the flu. 
It is crazy how much we look forward to events, taking it for granted that we will have another day to live. That we will always have time to postpone plans and adventures for some future tomorrow. It makes a person not want to miss a thing. On the other hand, if you are too worried about missing life, you end up missing it through all the worry. I guess the answer to this is all too cliche: live your life to the fullest everyday. But what is the fullest? 
It probably changes from person to person much like truth or comfortable temperatures. So what does it mean to me?
I am not entirely sure but perhaps I can start answering this question little by little, starting with answering this question-- what is my idea of a perfect day?

Weather:
A nice 55-60 degrees Fahrenheit, cloudy with 85% chance of rain. Not too cold but just enough so to encourage a sweater and thick socks.

When would I wake?:
I have noticed that any day that I have woken up at 9 AM seems to end up being a good day, no matter when I went to bed the previous evening.

How would the day progress?:
Having awoken at 9 AM, I would probably pick up my scriptures, read a chapter and then move on to reading whatever other good piece of literature I had sitting beside my bed. Pulling myself out of bed in my warm pajamas, I would throw on a bathrobe for extra measure before hunting up the makings of French toast (complete with powdered sugar) and bacon, a glass of milk on the side.
After eating, I would hand wash the cooking tools, placing the plate, etc, in the dishwasher. I would gather the clothes I had picked up the morning before a take a warm shower, even taking the time to shave my legs. Seeing as on my perfect day my hair would be long again, I would brush through it and throw it into a bun. Maybe do makeup... but just maybe.
I would then make myself a cup of cocoa, wrap up in a blanket and with my lap top on my lap, I would write. I would write and write and write until I could absolutely write no more (which usually happens after 2 or so hours so I can stop to think about what should happen next), after which I would play on the piano for a refreshing time. 
I suppose it would be roughly 3 PM at this point and, in an ideal time, it would be time to go to work-- from 3 PM to 8 PM. At either a restaurant or a book store. 
After work, I would probably grab a bite to eat before heading over to various friend's apartments to chat amicably about how the day went and what our plans were for the weekend. We might even get a small group together to go to a Cocoa Bean Cafe for desserts after which (again in a perfect day) my love-interest of the time would suggest that we go for a walk. It would have finally started pouring encouraging us to bring an umbrella and walk arm in arm talking about everything and nothing with moments of companionable silence. 
He would drop me off at my door by midnight or midnight 30, perhaps kiss my head during a hug and say he would see me the next day. 

Yes. I daresay this would be my perfect day. However, if I had a day off, some of that afternoon time would be devoted to movies and naps and more visiting with friends and loved ones.