swing low sundays

I am fundamentally inert on Sundays. Unless my parents have convened a family gathering or there's some other "event" only an apartment/building fire will see me outdoors on Sunday. Sundays are for indoors and I'll put in the effort for that to be so, even when it means creating elaborate breakfasts with which to bribe my brother into walking my dog.

Sundays are for sleeping way too late. Late enough to fuck up falling asleep later that night (unless I employ NyQuil or ambien - yum). Sundays are for slowly acclimating to the day by reading the papers, drinking coffee and therefore peeing a lot. For Yankee games, cleaning the insane pile of clothes I've not put away all week (I start off strong but usually cave by Wednesday), or changing the sheets on my bed. Sundays are excellent opportunities to catch up on any t.v. I missed during the week or to space out during 7 back to back episodes of Law & Order SVU. Sundays are also the perfect days to round up the various magazines I have scattered all over my apartment and read what I want before tossing them out. I love to throw things away and Sundays are a big tidy up day.

Sundays are not for under wire, make-up, high heels or earrings. Sundays are not for elaborate travel plans involving schedules or time tables. Sundays are not for laundry unless you're a cute 22 year old in Juicy Couture shorts looking to get laid, I just want clean jeans.

The most energetic things I do on Sundays are take my dog to the park (on days when it's so gorgeous out it feels abusive not to take him), clean up a bit and make complicated dinners. Tonight I didn't even have to do that though, this week swing low Sunday was replaced with Seder scrap Sunday. Brisket, roasted potatoes, spinach souffle and asparagus, all mom made and all mom delicious with nothing but reheating required. Amazing.

Brisket, Donald Trump and an 11pm ambien. Bien indeed.