Some Days // Sundays

Some days are Sundays when I'm a hermit in leggings and an over-sized sweatshirt. Various cups of half drank tea are scattered throughout my bedroom. Thick socks, too. I nap and laze and think and write and watch episodes of any television drama in between. At 9:00 at night I realize that the only verbal communication I had all day was with the check-out lady at Target. I said to her, "Thank you." This Sunday was one of those days. I smell like Vicks and have no regrets. Today was perfect.

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