Deliciously Decadent

A few months ago, I was texting with a couple of friends about the movie adaptation of the book Where the Crawdads Sing. We’d all read the novel and were interested to see if the film version was better or worse than the book. One of my friends in the text thread said she’d let us know, because she planned to watch it that afternoon on Netflix.

I was aghast. It was Sunday. She was planning to watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon? It seemed so out of character for her. This friend is industrious, a real go-getter, super productive and efficient. I was shocked that she was planning to fritter a perfectly good afternoon away watching television, of all things!

Under my shock and surprise (and, let’s be honest, judgment) however, was another feeling. I was envious. I was envious that my friend seemed to have much less guilt than I did about how she chose to spend her free time. Even my free time, I realized, had self-imposed boundaries around it. Even my supposed free time was dictated by "shoulds” and “should nots.”

I deemed pursuits like spending time in nature, reading or having coffee or lunch with a friend to be acceptable uses of my free time. Shopping, exercising or attending a social function or planned entertainment, like a concert or even a movie in a theater were also acceptable. But watching a movie on my laptop on a Sunday afternoon? Unacceptable (especially on a “a nice day” — “You should be outside, enjoying this beautiful weather!” my inner disciplinarian chided me).

The act of watching a movie on my laptop while lying in bed on a Sunday afternoon on a beautiful summer day seemed downright decadent.

I don’t leave a lot of room in my everyday life for decadence. Most of what I choose to do, even what I choose to do for fun, has a purpose and is done for good reason and with a particular outcome in mind. I was born and raised in New England; practicality is my default setting.

I think this is one of the reasons why I love vacation so much. On vacation, I’m able to toss practicality out the window and embrace spontaneity. Ice cream before dinner? Why not? Cocktails and an expensive appetizer served poolside? Yes, please. A long, luxurious nap in my hotel room? Absolutely. Vacation feels decadent to me because I allow myself the little luxuries and indulgences I wouldn’t ordinarily permit in my everyday, ordinary life.

And yet, I find myself wondering lately: why should we limit these small luxuries to a week or two a year? Might our everyday, ordinary lives be a little bit more delightful if we allowed ourselves the opportunity to indulge in a bit of decadence once in a while?

Maybe decadence for you looks like an hour-long hot stone massage at the local spa. Or a professional manicure. Or ice cream for dinner. Or a mimosa with your bacon and eggs on a regular Sunday morning.

As it turns out, decadence for me looks like tucking into my bed on a sunny, summery, Sunday afternoon and powering up my laptop to watch something utterly frothy and frivolous. There may be a couple squares of dark chocolate involved. My snuggly pup Harvey is definitely in the picture, stretched out next to me, his warm back pressed to my side.

Last weekend I watched two episodes back to back of the Sex in the City sequel on my laptop in my bed on Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t just any Sunday afternoon. It was a picture-perfect day, a comfortable 80 degrees, clear blue skies, a light breeze. Harvey napped beside me in a sun spot on the comforter. I sipped a tall glass of iced coffee and slowly nibbled my way through two squares of Trader Joe’s 72% dark chocolate, my favorite. It felt luxurious and decadent and deliciously delightful.