Slow Sunday.

I lay in bed and make the meal plan, the grocery list. Determined to eat a real meal every evening this week.

Too early for the Sunday Scaries.

You can feel the next transition in the air. You can tell by the color of the light.

I tell her that I think I need a nap. I’ve had too many late nights in a row.

Samosas and old seasons of Ru Paul’s Drag Race.

I tell her that if she’s in the gifting mood, I’ll take another large Lego set. I need something to do.

Pizza next door. We’re told to bring nothing, but I carry a vase of flowers through the door.

If only this were a Saturday night.

Tomorrow.