Tracy Chapman performing “If Not Now” live back in 1998:

Honestly, I feel like I could just write “sleep” after half a dozen bullets and that might accurately convey how I’d prefer to spend the weekend.

Since that’s probably not how I should spend the weekend, here’s what else I’ll probably do:

• Go to the Black Lives Matter protest.
• Have a video chat with friends.
• Shop at the farmers market.
• Make some bread.
• Read and knit in the park.
• Tend the garden.

How about you? How are you thinking you’ll spend the weekend?

I’m not going to lie: It was not the best weekend. To be fair, it was far from the country’s best weekend, so to expect mine to stand out is probably both unfair and tone deaf.

Right now, District residents are under a curfew until 6 a.m., in part due to several nights of incidents that arose in the aftermath of police violence against Black Americans and protests against it. (The incidents include several fires, including some in the vicinity of my office.)

I’d like to think that we are all safer because of the curfew, but it’s less because then people won’t be out causing mischief, but more because police seem emboldened in cities across our country to flash white power signs and to use seemingly unwarranted force against citizens peacefully exercising their Constitutionally guaranteed right to assemble and the media exercising theirs to report on news.

D.C.’s police force is usually relatively restrained when dealing with protestors, in part because D.C. so often hosts large rallies. But this weekend’s responses has left me worried about even our seasoned force. They are not without their problems and this situation seems rife with opportunity for bad behavior in clashes with an agitated public.

But at the same time as people have acted out in horrible ways against their fellow humans, I’ve also heard about an outpouring of support — donations of money and physical labor to damaged businesses, funds to raise bail for protestors jailed over the weekend, food, water, and milk (to combat the tear gas) shared, people looking out for each other’s kids, for each other. Once again, in the wake of a great American tragedy, we are looking for the helpers. It’s just too bad that they don’t seem to be the people many of us (white people) had been led to expect.

D.C. began loosening restrictions today, which includes things like opening parks, but not playgrounds; letting restaurants seat people at a distance outside, but not in; and asking people to observe a “stay at home lite” life.

As such, Rudi and I took a drive uptown for takeout pizza and a quick trip to the grocery store this evening, which is pretty much what we’ve done every third Friday since mid-April.

I have to spend some time working this weekend, but here’s what else I’m hoping to do:

• Read in the park.
• Take more beer to the garden slugs. They are hard partiers, despite knowing the consequences. Harvest things while I’m there and consider planting beans.
• Pull together some library materials to take back later this week, since branch libraries are slowly going to allow curbside pickup.
• Watch the rocket launch.
• Really put winter away, since I didn’t follow through on that last weekend and since this week highlighted the need for tshirts over sweaters.
• Make crackers. Apparently that’s one of the things I can do with my sourdough.
• Bike down to Constitution Garden to see the ducklings.
• Drink daiquiris.
• Do laundry. I should probably launder the reusable bags we have that can be washed. Plus I need cleans masks again.
• Get a takeaway drink from one of the local restaurants that have been shuttered for months.

What are you hoping to do this final weekend of May?

Ours was a quiet, but nice, weekend. There were bike rides and walks and wildlife sightings. I ate peas from the garden and waffles from my sourdough starter.

I splurged on peonies at the farmers market, as well as more predictable purchases. They made my soul sing.

We finished our Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone listen, and I will wrap up reading Chasing Vermeer after I post this.

We did laundry (we were out of masks again) and repaired a piece of furniture my grandfather built me.

I talked with my folks and with my BFF, Karen. Rudi’s friend, Rachel, dropped off some homemade lemon curd, and we chatted briefly outside — only my second in-person interaction with our friends in months.

And we were scofflaws and took our beach chairs to the traffic circle at the end of our street this evening and soaked up the sun for a little while. It’s my first time sitting outside since March (city parks are closed for lounging and I live in an apartment below ground), and it was glorious. I don’t even care how many bug bites I got. There is a possibility that D.C. will enter into Phase 1 of pandemic recovery as early as Friday, in which case I can soon return to lounging — at a distance from my neighbors — in the park without skirting the law (the traffic circle is technically federal property, and they’re a little murkier about legalities of such green spaces).

I hope you all had a pleasant weekend, too, or as pleasant as possible. Stay safe and stay apart!

I’ve spent the past forty-five minutes musing about the temerity of time in introduction after deleted introduction. It seems about right for the place in which we find ourselves as we head into this traditional start to the summer season. In the end, none of it matters while all of it matters, and I add it to the tally of things I have let go over the past three months. With a sign of resignation, instead I’ll turn to face forward again and consider how I’ll spend this long weekend:

• Reading. I’ve got a couple audiobooks that are likely to wrap up, as well as Chasing Vermeer.
• Knitting on the shawl that never ends. If I wrap it up, that means there’s hope for the rest of this, right?
• Baking. I want cookies or bars or something. And scones. And bread. And waffles. (Apparently, my supper has worn off. Regardless, I’m hoping to make something tasty.)
• Talking to loved ones. Karen and I have agreed we should phone. The details will sort themselves out, history has shown.
• Going for a bike ride. Rudi tells me baby wildlife is out and about and that if I can get myself down to the waterways I can ogle baby ducks at the very least.
• Putting away winter. It’s strewn about the apartment, with winter coats draped on the coat rack and sweaters still in my drawer. The spring has been cool, and I love having the window open, which means it’s been chilly in the Burrow, but this week’s forecast suggests weather got the memo that we’re heading into summer, and it’s time to have tshirts and tank tops more accessible.
• Tending to the garden. Rudi picked up stakes and twine at the hardware store this morning and I was able to spend some time this evening getting the peas upright again. We invited many of our garden slugs out for a final happy hour in a capful of beer, and the word of mouth spread like we were holding a kegger on the beach in a teen movie. We’ll only slightly apologetically refill the beer tomorrow. (I’m not really heartless enough to be a successful gardener, but the slugs are out of control with all the rain we’ve had this spring.)
• Painting my nails. While my toes are still fully covered, my spring manicure is down to a glittery dot of varying size on each finger. It’s time to wipe off this polish and decide on some new colors to adorn the digits.
• Carefully breaking some rules. There is an abandoned gas station a couple blocks away that spent last summer as a paid parking lot. They have some rose bushes along their sidewalks, and I think that as long as I cut a few blossoms from the station side, as opposed to the side that faces the apartment building across the street, that no one is being hurt. Similarly, I may consider taking a lawn chair to the circle that I walk around or maybe the 19th-century cemetery nearby and sit outside for a little while if it seems like not too many people are about. My local park is too crowded and even the large park by the garden tends to attract a lot of people. If there were a way for me to get a little sun, without the stress of being near people who still can’t be bothered to wear masks, I think this subterranean dweller would feel so much better about things.
• Write some mail. Because if I can’t give hugs in real life, at least I can send some paper ones.

How about you? What are you hoping this weekend holds?