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Tonight, I come home to a house that is calm, clean, and quiet. Today has been a lovely day, smelling of spring, filled to the brim with buckwheat apple-cinnamon pancakes, sunshine walks, pizza ordered in, laughter, and Erin. We saw a man playing guitar under a tree as a paunchy Hasidic Jew jogged by, patches of crocuses and pointing daffodils, a young girl gathering flowers, people on bicycles, all bathed in a slanted golden light. Classical music erupted from old brownstones on hushed streets. Puppies and children were out in full force. And now, with tomorrow's lunch in the fridge and my contacts out, I'm soaked in the pleasant exhaustion of a slow Sunday well spent.