I had scheduled rest between two hardware shops.

The drawer handle had been loose for six months. On my first free Saturday in weeks, it suddenly required a journey across Toronto to compare replacements in person.

I had put “rest” on my training calendar. Underneath it, I had written hardware shop, returns, laundry and possibly the other hardware shop if the first one did not have the right finish. There was also a question mark beside cleaning the oven.

My friend Rupa called while I was putting the washing on. She asked what I was doing. I said nothing, then read her the list. She waited until I finished.

The oven could cope with its disappointment.

We sorted the list into things that genuinely needed doing that day and things that had merely noticed an empty calendar. The washing was already underway. I needed groceries for dinner. The handle could remain slightly irritating until next week.

I was accustomed to earning a break by finishing something. The trouble was that my flat kept producing new things. A completed laundry basket immediately suggested a dusty shelf. A cleared shelf revealed a wall that wanted painting.

I took my tea onto the balcony.

It was a small balcony, mostly occupied by a chair and a pot in which nothing ambitious had survived. I sat with my sweater sleeves over my hands and watched a pigeon reconsider the same patch of concrete beside the railing.

I had wanted a quiet morning. This was a quiet morning. It looked much less impressive than the day I had planned, which was probably why I had nearly missed it.

Later I bought groceries, cooked dinner and left the drawer alone. On Sunday I tightened its screw with the screwdriver already in the kitchen. I sent Rupa a photograph. She replied, “Please do not turn this into a new hobby.”