I have always loved Sundays. See evidence of this here, here, and here. Sundays are brilliant days. It's the one day of the week where it's perfectly acceptable to be a social hermit, to run errands in either your Sunday Best or your curlers, or to wake up and not move from your bed until the next morning. There's no judgment from anyone.
I teach two yoga classes on Sunday mornings, so my days of sleeping in are no more--but it's okay. Instead I begin my day at 7am with one group of yogis, then go to breakfast with Friends A and J. We enjoy a delicious breakfast:
Then we part ways, usually. I go to teach my second yoga class, and they go off and do whatever creates their Sunday Bliss.
Today our Sunday Bliss was combined into a bloody mary/mimosa afternoon of total joy. We snacked, drank, and sat on their patio and solved all the world's problems. An engineer, a PhD, and a teacher all sitting around gabbing--now THERE's some problem-solving action.
Now, all the windows are open, Breaking Bad is on the DVR, the smell of other more ambitious people's grilling is wafting through my house, and I'm contemplating which book to pick up. Gatsby is chilling on the fireplace marble dreaming his doggy dreams.