People speak fondly of lazy Sunday's with a certain blasé brilliance, as if it were righteous to be slothful. Letting hours bleed into one another like colors in the wash, I have spent every seventh day sleeping in, dedicating what seems like decades to midday meals, playing scrabble and baking in the valiant prairie sun. No, we don't live in our igloos all year long.
Although not my designated day of rest (see: the book of Genesis) my summer Sundays have shown me the pleasures in nothing, and everything, and most everything in nothing much at all. To work. To home. To be honest, I don't mind. But I've been lazy with outfits. I've been lazy with call-backs. I've been lazy with blogging, which is right (or write) wretched. And I've been lazy on Sunday of last, and next, and likely always. Until September, at least.
So as to prevent bedsores, or worse, self-imposed social leprosy, I plan on remedying my listless life-style in all areas but one.
I plan on keeping all of my Sundays looking just like this.
3 comments:
your sundays look like a still from a horror film. that's what passes for mood lighting in winnipeg?
get your lazy ass back here.
i second sarah's comment!
always good to have an update though :)
we're all a little scary first thing in the morning. don't pretend you both wake up looking like brigette fucking bardot. you've both slept over.
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