The One With The Day Of Rest.

Dear Lover,

Sundays are for lounging about, I say.

And if you don't agree.

Well, you'll have to change.

You can burp.

You can fart.

You can smack when you eat.

You can watch the Super Bowl with your legs spread out.

And chili dripping down your chin.

You can snore.

You can have another slice of the pie I made for the in-laws that took all day to make.

I'll try my hardest not to change you.

But I expect the same from you.

And Sundays.  

They're for lounging.

Not for getting dressed up.

Or for preparing for the next day.

Not for laundry.

Or cleaning.

Or paying the bills.

Not for errands.

Or grocery shopping.

Or home repair.

Yes, Sundays.

They're for lounging.

Love,

Me.