A few weeks ago I noticed a blank day on my calendar — no appointment, activity or social event listed. While I enjoy a semi-full calendar, it’s good to have a rare totally free day to catch up on neglected tasks, or start a project requiring a longer span of time that the busier days don’t allow.

I began this free day by lingering in bed an extra half hour while I planned what I might do with this leisure time. Already off to a late start, I pulled the last Kleenex from its bathroom container and, while replacing it with a fresh box, made a mental note to add “tissues” to my grocery list. Moving on to the kitchen for breakfast, I used the last coffee filter and opened a new pack — another addition for the grocery list. Then I needed to open a new package of frozen blueberries and a new bottle of orange juice, both presenting challenges for my 94 year-old arthritic hands — two more grocery list items. Since there are now four items, I start a written list (knowing the required memory tests at the wellness checkups expect us to remember only three words.)

Eating breakfast I notice the antique clock of my grandparents has stopped. This is not good as it takes a fair amount of time to rewind and reset as it slowly chimes each hour. It is also temperamental about its position atop the vintage china cabinet and must be placed in a certain spot to run at all. Once this is accomplished, I am off for my morning walk. It’s a beautiful day and I stay longer than usual on the bench by the bubbling fountain as a good friend decides to join me for a visit.

It’s almost noon when I return and not enough time to start anything major, so I decide to do a quick read of the Oregonian online. This turns out not to be quick as the computer sends a message saying “Looks like you’re not connected to the internet…” This happens frequently lately — usually when I need to answer an urgent email or it’s deadline day to send in my Jottings column. I refuse to panic and give it some time and a few more clicks and I’m back online. Yes, my computer is as vintage as everything I’m living with in my world these days. Later in the day when I need to use the printer, it is not responding and I find the paper tray is empty. This must be the National Day of Replenishment.

By mid afternoon the only productive thing I’ve accomplished is doing a load of laundry and I’ve abandoned plans for starting any kind of project. This nice-weather-day lures me out to the veranda with a book, my phone, glasses and iced tea. Par for the way things are going today, someone is already comfortably stationed in my favorite spot. I give them what I hope sounds like a friendly greeting and settle in another area.

As I relax and enjoy the beauty of my surroundings, I’m reminded of a book I read a few years ago entitled “The Art of the Wasted Day” by Patricia Hampl. It was a library book and I liked it so much I requested it as a birthday gift. When I go back to my apartment, I find the book and read a few pages.The author’s words are comforting and appropriate for today when I read what she says about the third stage of her life: “…when more of my life lies behind than ahead of me, I become aware of the pleasure of leisure … as I approach the other side of Real Life, I discover the best to-do list is to waste your life in order to find it.”

The grand finale of this day is when I decide to read more from the book at bedtime. I attach the book light to it and get settled into bed. The light flickers and goes out as its batteries die. Sadly, the one thing I’ve neglected to have on hand is a supply of AAA batteries.

I’m not planning to waste future days on purpose, but I will accept days like this one when annoyances keep popping up and interrupting the flow of my daily routine. I am grateful they are minor in the big picture of today’s world, that I am capable of dealing with them, and it’s best they happen on a free day than a busier one. Maybe there really is an art to wasting a day.

Jo Ann Parsons is a member of the Jottings Group at the Lake Oswego Adult Community Center (jottings33@gmail.com).