The art of doing nothing

I'm not very good at doing nothing. The idea of sitting around idle is not appealing. 

Typically when I'm doing nothing, like standing around in the pasture with the herd, 

I'm doing a few other things, like kicking cactus or taking pictures or degoobering ears.

Anyway, there have been a few times this summer when I've really felt like doing absolutely nothing,

but I didn't have the right equipment.

Now I do.

Yesterday, I hung my new hammock in a stall and laid around doing nothing for two hours. 

Sure, I was drinking a beer and listening to a book and gazing out at the herd in the pasture, 

but that still counts as nothing because I was reclining at the time.

My nothing time ended when the herd came home for supper.

Hank ran back and forth behind the barn way too many times...

...convinced that I was a lion sleeping in a tree about to pounce on him.

Alan, Lucy and George were skeptical but much less alarmed.

George finally came in for a visit. I told him it would be nice if he waited on me for a change–

feed me grapes, fan the air with palm fronds, refresh my drink.

He offered to fluff up my pillow,

but that didn't go too well.

In the end, my doing nothing included giving butt scratches, but it was still a lovely way to spend the afternoon.