Yesterday, as I spent way too much time sorting and storing pills, I walked into a different room, sat myself down and made a declaration to myself and to the world: “I am doing the unheard of in the chronic illness community.

“I’m taking the day off.”

What does that mean, exactly? For one, no pills. Nah, that won’t work. We are linked in a sort of medicinal chain gang, my meds and I. I could try to escape but it wouldn’t be worth the inevitable ensuing pain. So I’ll just pretend they’re ibuprofen and gulp them down with a few swigs of the lemonade I stir up daily. While some swear by its citrusy advantages I’ve also heard it rots your teeth. For now, it’s a chance I’m willing to take owing to its deliciousness.

But here’s what I won’t be doing today: Boxing. Parkinson’s dance class, Parkinson’s ping pong. Yoga. Exercise walking. Hmm, that activity frequently involves friends, so therefore belongs in the plus (retain) column, I will have them go to lunch with me instead of trotting around Brookline.

Oooh! Maybe I’ll turn this into a day of self- indulgence and get one of my quarterly massages.

Back to the “don’ts.” I will not spend one millisecond on my current “job,”promoting my “stuff,” i.e. this very blog and its podcast cousin.i

Oooh again! Maybe I’ll eat some cheese! True, I do occasionally consume this ambrosial comestible, mostly in others’ homes, There is a school of thought that prohibits dairy for those of us with PD because it inhibits the absorption of medications. But today I’m going whole hog (or should I say “whole goat”) and buying a nice chunk of a tangy, ashy chèvre, which I shall down in a single, divine sitting.

I’ve expanded the meaning of “day off” to include anything obligatory, not just PD related activities which means no cooking, a task with which I have a love/hate relationship at best. I map out my meal plan for the day and why not give a shout-out to my local Brookline faves. Bakey’s, one of six fine bakeries within half a mile of my home. Their almond babka is one of the most delicious things that I’ve ever put in my mouth. For lunch I’ll defrost a couple slices of pizza from Otto’s and come dinner time I’ll head over to my preferred dinner spot, Bar Vlaha for some culinarily exceptional, upscale, unfortunately expensive and therefore occasional treat Greek restaurant. This is not your ya-ya’s Greek diner.

That particular indulgence will be taking the place of my daily stint on the treadmill or stationary bike. Take that, you fat -burning, disease – slowing daily “must.” There shall be no musts today.

So now, what to do with my exercise/cooking/ cleaning/working -free day? I find myself almost sleepwalking in the direction of my dresser as I have a vague recollection that. I was out of clean undies. Yep. it’s true and there’s no laundry on the agenda of a day off, Goin’ commando, folks. And no more need be said about that.

My day off begins the way of all mornings: the Times’s mini-crossword, followed by Spelling Bee (and if I fail to reach Genius level I become convinced that dementia is upon me). And then Wordle. I sorta hate Connections but do it anyway. But not today! It’s the trash heap for you, Big C.

I finally found a book I can imagine reading to the very end, Elizabeth Strout’s latest, Tell Me Everything. My goal is to lie immobile on the couch for a full hour, nice cuppa tea at the ready and become absorbed in this fine piece of fiction. Oh wait, I forgot about the ADHD. Two bathroom breaks later, plus three email check-ins, a search for that last chunk of chocolate which I now recall I hid from myself because I’m not supposed to eat it due to acid reflux, and the hour allocated for reading and nothing else (hah!) is over. I read 12 pages during that hour; I used to read 30.

No need to dwell and especially no desire to bore you with a full accounting of my day off. Suffice it to say that there was some cheating but I did manage 30 pages even though it took me till nearly midnight, reading page by page. And no laundry!

Plus, I did some knitting and TV watching, and yes, the lack of physical activity did a number on my mood so I took myself for a short walk. And yeah, I did a little bit of research relating to the blog. Maybe a full “day off” isn’t an answer for what ails me. Next time, I’ll shoot for half of a day. Though true baby steps would indicate a third of a day. Yeah, a third of a day might be just the thing!

For your enlightenment and edififcation, here’s Parky Conversations, my podcast