I would wake up to Mushaboom by Fiest.
It would be 8:30-ish.
For 15 minutes I would lie in my bed,
Drowning in my plush white comforter.
I would watch backlight of the morning sun flood into my room and onto my mint green walls.
I would get up and open my window.
A warm breeze would make its way onto my face and I would breath in the spring air.
(Because, of course, the perfect day is in spring.)
I would get dressed,
Prefferably in a dress and cotton leggings,
And make my way outside.
I would sit on the grass in the backyard with the intention of reading a book, or writing, like they do in the movies.
But instead I would get distracted by my phone.
I would habitually check my email, and Twitter, and MLIA.
Then I would get a text from you.
You would ask me to hang out.
I would agree to.
We would go to eat a classic diner breakfast.
I would get sunny side up eggs with white toast.
Conversation would roll between us naturally as Jack Johnson played overhead.
After breakfast, its ten o clock, and we would decide to go back to your house.
But first, we would make a pit stop at the store.
We would buy all kinds of comfort food.
Hot Cheetos, Capri Suns, and best of all.... Otterpops.
We would pick up the latest in Seventeen magazine,
And head back home.
We would park ourselves in your backyard, under the sun.
We would blast my favorite playlist over speakers.
(Included: Vampire Weekend, The Shins [a la Wincing the Night Away], Her Space Holiday, Death Cab for Cute, She & Him, and Norah and the Whale.)
I would thumb through Seventeen.
You would listen intently as I told you your horiscope.
We would lazy in your backyard for hours as we talked and worked on our pathetic tans.
I would eat Otterpops (one of each color.)
I would get restless and insist we do something.
When really all I want to do is stay right where I am.
We would decide we've had enough sun, for now, and go inside.
We would make lunch.
We would dance in the kitchen to Viva La Vida by Coldplay as we make quesadillas.
We would make sure to stop what we're doing to belt out the "Woaaaaah" part.
We would eat our quesadillas, drink Pepsi, and marvel at our impressive cooking skills.
We would then decide to watch 500 Days of Summer and dance along with Joseph Gordon Levitt when appropriate.
I would comment the Expectations/Reality part, like I always do.
When the movies over we would call up our favorite people and invite them over.
At this point its early evening and we decide its the perfect sunlight for a barbeque.
People would pile into your backyard as Wake Up by Arcade Fire plays.
We would grill hamburgers and eat barbeque flavored chips.
Everyone would sit around conversing as we eat.
The sun would start to set and we would decide its time for some kind of water fight.
Of course, on a perfect day, I have water balloons on hand.
I would break them out and the war would begin.
When its over, the sun is almost completely set.
We would all complain about our lack of planning.
(No sun + wet clothes = COLD.)
But we all know we wouldnt take it back.
We would start a fire and draw blankets around our shoulders.
The sky would be a shade of purple as All My Days by Alexi Murdoch pours out of the speakers.
Everyone would be unworried as they fell into conversation.
The night would end, and I would go back home.
I would lay on the couch and catch up on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.
I would stare intently at the laptop screen as I blogged about what just happened.
(Because, lets be honest, I would blog about it.)
My dog would fall asleep next to me as I idly pet him.
When I finish,
I would go to my room and put on my favorite yoga pants.
I would say goodnight to my fish,
And turn off my light.
But not before turning my iPod to my instrumental playlist.
The faint bluelight of my iPod dock would illuminate my room ever so slightly as it commences a night of Jon Brion, Claude Debussy, The Album Leaf, Chopin, and Chaz Prymek.
I would lay down on my bed and sink into the covers.
I would lay there for a moment.
I would consider everthing thats happened that day.
I would smile at the laziness,
The warmth
The simplicity
of it all.
Then
The sound of the sprinkler system turning on would grumble outside my window.
And the day would offically be perfect.

When asked to consider my perfect day earlier today, I joked about it being in New Zealand or something.
But I think a day where I'm doing nothing,
With my favorite people,
Set to the ultimate playlist,
Would be perfectly content.
Which, really, is all the "perfect" I want.
Perfectly satisfied.

What would you do on your perfect day?

-Adriana

(p.s. I dont know who "you" is. But if you think you could maybe fit the criteria of the day described above, shoot me a text. I'm in the mood for a perfect day.)

I just want to sink into my bed covers and disintegrate.
Then I want to take those disintegrated particles and squeeze them into a really really small ball.
Then I want to take that ball, and hide it under my pillow.
Then I want to take the hidden ball under the pillow, and push it to the farthest corner of my bed.
And when I'm a ball, hidden under a pillow, in the farthest corner of my bed, I want to take a deep breath.
So deep that I disintegrate again.
Then all my particles will melt into my bed.
And I'll be buried.
Within my bed.
Within my breath.
Within myself.
And I'll stay there forever.

-Adriana