Get up early and go eat a blueberry scone from Wealthy Street Bakery. Do not skip this step! Realize that it's almost blueberry season and decide to find a place to pick.
Since your internet connection isn't hooked up yet, grab your laptop and head over to the public library. Compile a list of local blueberry growers and start making calls. While you're at it, grab a bunch of books on baking pies.
Call your friend Hilary and invite her to go blueberry picking. Drive up north to Sandy Bottom Berries, where early u-pick blueberries are $1.00 a pound. Listen to crazy soccer/ballet/horseback riding moms talk about their kids. Get carried away and pick 4 pounds of blueberries, 6 quarts of raspberries, 3 pounds of sour cherries, and 1 bunch of flowers.
Drive back home and make a blueberry pie. Eat messy but very tasty pie while watching Flight of the Navigator. Resolve to make at least one seasonal pie a month.
The coolest thing about going to pick berries was the series of visceral memories it has triggered. I remember picking those tiny raspberries (so much smaller than the ones Hilary and I picked!) with my brothers for what seemed like hours, because we each had a quota to fill. We'd sing or talk loudly to ward off bears, since we'd occasionally stumble a patch of trampled down grass with a large mound of bear scat in it. The long grass would tickle our legs, and the tips of our fingers were red from so many mashed berries. I complained about it then, but now it seems almost idyllic.