What I want is to wake up in the mornings without hesitation...to inhale freshly brewed coffee, hand in hand with cigarettes, and to look outside expecting it to be sunny blue skies even when it's not. Then a random thought drives me insane: buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Mmm. As a resolution to my newfound problem, I finally come to the conclusion that either way it'll taste divine. So worrying was the last thing on my mind. Then the phone rings with a call from a friend with an invitation to head out to a favorite place. My first thought? Reminding myself that although I've had a craving for gorgeous warm weather ever since summer ended, it's still raining. Fuck it. There's never a bad time for beaches. So my hair goes into a set o' pigtails and the faded A's hat jumps on it....creating the ultimate scrub-adelic appearance, coming clad with a whole entire outfit known to all as "sweats". On the way there, it's pouring down like I've never seen. Just as the car pulls up to the lot, the skies miraculously seem to show a certain dry gray and all I can think is how perfect the timing is. As soon as I leave, the sky becomes dull and wet once again and I'm left smiling. Absolute perfect timing. I come home contemplating what should happen next: take photos, jump back into my newly-washed warm sheets, have a glass or glasses of my favorite cabernet sauvignon, a long bath, people watch, work out, ice cream, movies, food-food-food, walk around in my underwear, travel somewhere, or dance to rock my body. Difficult choice-I know. Wish I could do them all @ once but obviously that's just a tad ambitious or a fantasy, or a bit of both. By the end of the day, I've come to realize how frivolous of a Sunday it's been. I sit...then think...then belt out laughing knowing that I'd rather worry about these things ANY day than have to deal with all the bullshit during the week.Holy Smokes. Everything should just be easy like Sunday mornings...
