Sundays. Sundays are the days of the week that I live for. Somehow I feel like it shouldn't matter which day of the week it is since I'm not working right now but in some strange sort of way, Sunday's hold this unexplainable feeling of happiness that no other day of the week can compare to.
And well, it's the one day of the week that you can do absolutely nothing without feeling any sort of guilt on your conscience. You can take an 8 hour nap and feel justified, or lay in bed all day and tell yourself that you really deserved it. All the other days however I feel anxious being home all day and I could never lay in bed longer than the moment after I wake up. Those days I feel like I should be doing something (because duh, I should be), but since I'm not, I pretend like I'm busy by doing mindless things on the Internet, or running pretend errands for things that I don't really need.
But Sundays? No, Sunday is different.
Take today for instance. We woke up, went to church, got home, ate random food that only tastes good on Sundays because something happens to your body from the time you leave the house for church, to the time you return home that really can never be explained. Because any other given day of the week any adult can go at least three hours without eating and still be alive, but those three hours spent at church is a whole different story. A headache starts forming during that third hour and you're sure that if anyone talks to you about anything as you're about to walk out the door to your car you might punch them because all you can think about is the food that is waiting for you at home. And can somebody explain that to me?
So, promptly after walking in the door and eating the left over biscuits from last night, the German pancakes from three days ago, drinking the flat Fresca in the fridge and feeling like it was the best combination of food I had ever eaten, I went upstairs to change into the pajamas that I would wear for the rest of the day (even though it was only noon), and then climbed into bed.
I turned on Taylor's computer and together we proceeded to watch 4 hours of old Seinfeld episodes. During which, I had this massive craving for candy when suddenly I remembered that I had hidden a box of Raisinets under the bed because Taylor is a junk food maniac (even worse than me, believeitornot) and if he sees it, it won't last for longer than a few minutes. So the other day after I purchased them, it took all my will power not to eat the whole box right then and I hid them under the bed for safekeeping for moments like this very one. I was hesitant to pull them out because how would he react? And mostly I was afraid that he would eat them all. But my craving overtook all sense of logic and I reached under, pulled them out, and proceeded to eat them like they had been there all along. He looked over at me, paused the Seinfeld, and asked, "Whaaaaat the? Where did those come from?" "Under the bed," I said as I poured more into my hand and popped them in my mouth...."Do you want some?" I asked as I stingingly pulled out two tiny pieces. "No actually. I'm so impressed that you kept those hidden from me that I'm going to let you eat all of them." It was a proud moment for me.
We lead simple lives that Taylor and I, and I know that one day our lives won't be so simple and they will likely be consumed with children fighting in the other room, people stopping by (because one day we'll have friends), callings to be fulfilled and more responsibility to be had, but until that day we will lie here enjoying our days of laziness that serve no real purpose while we eat 17 cookies and bask in the loveliness of Sundays.
And well, it's the one day of the week that you can do absolutely nothing without feeling any sort of guilt on your conscience. You can take an 8 hour nap and feel justified, or lay in bed all day and tell yourself that you really deserved it. All the other days however I feel anxious being home all day and I could never lay in bed longer than the moment after I wake up. Those days I feel like I should be doing something (because duh, I should be), but since I'm not, I pretend like I'm busy by doing mindless things on the Internet, or running pretend errands for things that I don't really need.
But Sundays? No, Sunday is different.
Take today for instance. We woke up, went to church, got home, ate random food that only tastes good on Sundays because something happens to your body from the time you leave the house for church, to the time you return home that really can never be explained. Because any other given day of the week any adult can go at least three hours without eating and still be alive, but those three hours spent at church is a whole different story. A headache starts forming during that third hour and you're sure that if anyone talks to you about anything as you're about to walk out the door to your car you might punch them because all you can think about is the food that is waiting for you at home. And can somebody explain that to me?
So, promptly after walking in the door and eating the left over biscuits from last night, the German pancakes from three days ago, drinking the flat Fresca in the fridge and feeling like it was the best combination of food I had ever eaten, I went upstairs to change into the pajamas that I would wear for the rest of the day (even though it was only noon), and then climbed into bed.
I turned on Taylor's computer and together we proceeded to watch 4 hours of old Seinfeld episodes. During which, I had this massive craving for candy when suddenly I remembered that I had hidden a box of Raisinets under the bed because Taylor is a junk food maniac (even worse than me, believeitornot) and if he sees it, it won't last for longer than a few minutes. So the other day after I purchased them, it took all my will power not to eat the whole box right then and I hid them under the bed for safekeeping for moments like this very one. I was hesitant to pull them out because how would he react? And mostly I was afraid that he would eat them all. But my craving overtook all sense of logic and I reached under, pulled them out, and proceeded to eat them like they had been there all along. He looked over at me, paused the Seinfeld, and asked, "Whaaaaat the? Where did those come from?" "Under the bed," I said as I poured more into my hand and popped them in my mouth...."Do you want some?" I asked as I stingingly pulled out two tiny pieces. "No actually. I'm so impressed that you kept those hidden from me that I'm going to let you eat all of them." It was a proud moment for me.
We lead simple lives that Taylor and I, and I know that one day our lives won't be so simple and they will likely be consumed with children fighting in the other room, people stopping by (because one day we'll have friends), callings to be fulfilled and more responsibility to be had, but until that day we will lie here enjoying our days of laziness that serve no real purpose while we eat 17 cookies and bask in the loveliness of Sundays.
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| You better believe we ate all of those...and another batch. |
Hahahahah I love this and I love Taylor's reaction to your hidden treats!
ReplyDeleteAhaha I'm laughing out loud right now. That is so funny and awesome especially because I just told you that I hid candy from Brad for the same reason.
ReplyDelete