I had a pretty low-key Sunday. By that I mean I didn't do much of anything, didn't go anywhere or see anyone. I slept late, then lay around on the couch for awhile watching bits and pieces of movies I've already seen. That's the great thing about getting 200 channels: there's always something comfortable and familiar on, when you feel you need it.

A lot of movies were playing, but I managed to catch the ends of three of them: Message in a Bottle (Kevin Costner meets a watery fate), The Climb (John Hurt reaches a fitting climax, after spending the whole movie on the verge of dying), and Free Willy (nobody dies in this one, but Michael Jackson sings over the end titles).

Once I got around to getting dressed, I watched the Giants beat the Rockies. Barry Bonds is hitting home runs at an unprecedented pace this season, and he hit another one today. His next one will tie him for eleventh on the all-time list, with Hall of Fame players Willie McCovey and Ted Williams. It's a pleasure to watch a future Hall of Famer play at a level that has me gasping in awe. No one has ever done what Bonds has done over the last month or so.

After the game I spent an hour in the yard, rooting up dandelions. I have so much space to take care of that I have to limit myself to certain areas at a time, or nothing ever gets done. Today I did about a six-foot area along the fence in the side yard. Sometimes I work out front in the garden, and sometimes near the back porch, where I'm clearing out the high weeds in an expanding circle.

There are many other places I could be working. Every time I walk out the door, I see something I should be taking care of. Sometimes I wonder how I could miss this or that weed, when I've spent so much time digging in the vicinity. The answer, as it turns out, is: it just happens. I do have to keep reminding myself that I can't do it all at one time. Maybe I can't do it all, period, but I keep going anyway.

Later on this afternoon, I tried to sit out on the porch and read for awhile, but it quickly got too cold and breezy. I sat in the sun in the garage and read for some time, and then, when that got too cold, I went upstairs and finished reading The Fallen Man, by Tony Hillerman. The plot was a bit too linear to suit my tastes, but I admire the Navajo characters and their way of life, based on balance and harmony.

I wasn't ready to come down into the airy downstairs, so I started looking for another book. I got through the first chapter of Sons From Afar, by Cynthia Voigt, before it was time to watch the series finale of Star Trek: Voyager. With so much good television on Wednesday nights, I wait for the Sunday repeats to watch this show.

I'm so glad the Borg Queen was on this one; she's one of my favorite characters. I'm looking forward to Enterprise, the Star Trek prequel that starts in the fall. My favorite is still The Next Generation, but I was a fan of the original series when I was in high school. Of all these shows, Voyager had by far the best theme music, in my discerning opinion (not that anyone asked).

Then I turned on the Show Tunes channel and sat down to write an entry. I found I had nothing to say, so I wrote about what I did all day. I don't do that often, much to the relief of anyone who reads this, at least not in this much detail. This is, however, a fairly typical weekend day for me. I couldn't think of any good reason to go anywhere.

Shopping was a possibility, but the holiday traffic was more than I felt like dealing with, so I just stayed home and decompressed. It wasn't anything I necessarily set out to do. I would certainly have done something more interesting if it had come up. But I won't apologize for taking a day to catch my breath, especially after the week I had.

Besides, it gets me ready for whatever tomorrow might bring (if anything).