My husband usually gets out of bed before I do on Sunday mornings. I hear the slam of the screen door as he walks out to the driveway to fetch The New York Times. He shuffles around in the kitchen, and says, "Okay, okay," to our two cats, who are getting underfoot and meowing at him. I snuggle deeper into the mattress. He loads up the measuring cup with dry food and dumps it into their bowls.
I call from the bedroom: "Coffee! Coffee!"
"Okay, okay," he says. He makes two pots of expresso--mine with steamed milk, his black. I move onto the living room couch (under the blue duvet you see in the photo). He reads to me from the Times--essays, book reviews, sometimes news stories. We talk about what's happening in the world and about what he has just read: does the writing work?
He reheats my now-tepid coffee. I read some more of the paper to myself.
I stumble off the couch and into the kitchen to make him a cheese omelet and me some toast.
Some days we take a walk after breakfast before getting to work. Today I'm walking alone because he's tearing his office up looking for a lost gadget.
What do you do on Sunday mornings?
- ► 2011 (15)
- ► 2010 (21)
- ▼ 2009 (113)
- ► 2008 (23)
- ► 2007 (20)
- ► 2006 (27)