I’m still trying to work on having my perfect Sunday morning. On television, it’s all about couples snuggling up in perfect white doona covers, unsoiled by accidental coffee-spillage and undisturbed by toast crums, to do the Sunday morning crossword.
Well, I don’t have a white doona cover.
Sunday mornings used to mean early wake ups and the smell of fresh brewing coffee, bacon and eggs. It meant serving customers with a smile and suppressing the urge to vomit from a forceful hangover.
Now, Sunday mornings mean waking up without much purpose, considering the weather and whether or not it’d be lazy to go back to bed.
It means heading to the shopping centre without much purpose or direction, and being stuck for something to do.
It means looking at other people’s Facebook feeds and wondering whether everyone’s lives are really that perfect, or if it’s just the effect of another filter on Instagram.
Nope, Sunday mornings are not yet perfect. But at least I wake up to a friendly smile and my new 4th Gen iPad.
What’s your ideal Sunday Morning?