If my honey and I are still ensconced in bed, and the clock has just passed eleven a.m., then it must be a real Sunday. Not one of those artificial types, when our morning rest is disturbed by a seven-year-old bellowing for Netflix and breakfast. This is a Sunday, when we might make a foray to the bathroom, or out to the deck to imbibe in the morning sun, only to return to the warmth of our bed. No twenty-year-old downstairs, who might awake at any moment to start making breakfast, clanging about in the kitchen. Only the cats to whine at us this morning, but once they get their kibble they quiet down and resume their everlasting series of naps. I could go into much more detail about what makes this Our Sunday, but I then I would have to reclassify this blog as NSFW.
Last night we were toying with the idea of seeing a film today; maybe even two, but having the house to ourselves is quickly engendering a feeling of laziness. "Doing stuff is overrated." So, we lounge about in our sleepwear, which we would not wear into the local 7/11. My brain is producing hunger pangs and I should probably listen soon. I'm not sure how our Sunday morning laziness is going to help my hunger. I haven't started cracking eggs yet, or searching for bacon in the back of the fridge. It's more likely that breakfast will soon become lunch, and we might have to throw on something more presentable, so that we can make our way to Burgermaster or someplace of equal mediocrity. Actually, I should state honestly that I am a fan of Burgermaster, and I don't consider them to be mediocre...but they are just a drive-in burger joint. I won't patronize McDonald's, but I've been known to eat at Burgermaster three times in a week. It reminds me of eating at the old A&W drive-in restaurants way back in 196-.
So, my laziness did not translate into an inability to write a blog post this morning, but my hunger will end this entry.