One of my favourite subtle and minor features of the film The Mission shows the Papal Nuncio in the story stroking a pet three-toed sloth, as he dictates correspondence to The Vatican.

Now you Seven Deadly Sins aficionados know that “sloth” refers to a specific type of laziness, acedia, or spiritual laziness. I’m not particularly lazy spiritually, more of a spiritual workaholic. But I’m getting slothful about working out, following healthy eating guidelines. I’ve grown indifferent towards self-care. This is short-lived, I hope. I didn’t go swimming much in April, only two times. There’s some latent sadness, always there, around the sexual desert of our marriage. It tells me “Why bother?”

Eventually the joy of being alive wins out. This afternoon, I’m sitting on my front porch, drinking hibiscus tea with lime, diluted with seltzer. Delicious and as decadent as this Spartan gets. There is the scent of cedar wood incense. My mind and body are enjoying the breeze, and even the sound emanating from the pipes of a Japanese (or Italian) motorbike of the “crotch rocket” variety. Just the perfect noise, a harbinger of Summer.

This porch time is too nice to walk away from. Tomorrow I begin anew.