I love Sundays.
So, I woke up to piles of dishes. Literally stacks of stacks, encrusted with week old butter cream sludge. It was a severe situation. I got the fuck out of there.
And went swimmmingggggg! Wrinkled myself up right and pruney, then sauna’d my brains out of my skull into a puddle beneath my wrinkly ass. It was lovely.
I then skipped my prune-bum off to the boyfriends and despite much thunder and lightening and distraction of all sorts managed to somehow convince him to let me buy him some breakfast. Also, as a side note, he got mace in his face last night. Hilarious.
Then it was breakfast, a pitcher of Amsterdam on a rooftop patio in the sunlight, followed by naps and horror movies.
Now I am home. There’s groceries in the fridge, and I am happy. The apartment is still covered in dishes but I have neglected them for 5 days, whats another 12 hours or so? My plan for the rest of the evening is to eat chocolate and watch Kate Winslet movies while Cory is off at his friends playing videogames and eating BBQ chicken. We are grownups.
P.S: That Grizzly Bear track is exactly Tears for Fears