I had one of those Sundays that are very much like... well... Sundays. I slept in. I cleaned a little. I skipped my workout. I called my mom a day late for her birthday. I went grocery shopping, and got a birthday present and went to a birthday BBQ for a couple hours, which was about as much social interaction as I can handle. Mostly, I just enjoyed being alone, not being responsible for anyone else's happiness. I watched movies in my apartment while I balanced my checking account spreadsheet. I walked to the corner cafe in the early afternoon and got a late bagel to go, and was pleased by the sound of the paper bag crinkling as I walked home.
It was one of those days that feels a little lonely around the edges, but in a distant ad not entirely unpleasant way, like the knowledge that much loved, but often annoying family members will be visiting, but that their trip is some time off.
I had a Sunday, I suppose. My Sunday, and that was that.
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