Today I took a break.

I walked to the grocery store. I cleared my backlog of Real Housewives episodes, a complicated feat because my new DVR and my cable aren’t talking to one another, so with a series of relays I can get my TV in dribbles.

I looked out the window at the sky and the water, and I ate exactly what I felt like eating. I didn’t think (well, I didn’t think much, not thinking at all would probably cause something in my head to short-circuit and fizzle), and I didn’t sit in a waiting room.

I’m not sure if I learned anything, aside from the fact that you should choose the guests at your child’s christening carefully, or it might end in a brawl (the season premiere of “Real Housewives of New Jersey” was quite a doozy) and that before inviting people on a trip to Morocco, you should decide whether you actually want them to be with you for three weeks (those New York housewives’ violence tends to be more verbal).

Thank you, Bravo, by the way (or should that be bravo, Bravo? Rest seems to activate the pun center of my brain).

Sometimes you just have to stop, whatever it is, you have to stop. The sky will not start dropping in chunks and the earth will not freeze in mid-rotation (it probably won’t, that doomsday preacher may have something else to say about it). There will be air and water and sunlight, even if you don’t show up once.

Every moment of life doesn’t have to be overstuffed with purpose.