Sunday mornin’, comin’ down.
Well, that header is a bit over dramatic. I got off lightly for making a pig out of myself with the lasagna last night. I only had to sit up once in the middle of the night to let the pain of indulgence subside. I knew when I got that second helping I was going to suffer. It was worth it, though.
So here it is, 9:15 am. Shortly it will be time to fix the Sunday waffles. I have read the newsfeeds and now know that the FBI had a ‘oops’ moment with the Strzok /Page texts and accidentally deleted them. And yeah, I believe ‘em. I shor ‘nuff do. An accident if I ever saw one. Uh huh. Accident.
The view out the window is sunshiny, but the temps are still in the 40’s in this land where one day it is gulf coast balmy and the next day the Alberta Express roars through. Old timers call them blue northers where only a bobwire* fence stands between us and the North Pole.
We got our bug killing freeze finally, and the pollen count will go down for a month or so until cedar flu season. I practically live on cassock pollen filters in the bedroom and studio, just venturing out of those safe zones for meals and bringing in groceries.
So this first day of the week starts. Coffee, chirping budgies, happy mutts (whats with mutts and morning, anyway?) and waffles.
* Down here, it is bobwire, not barbed wire …