Good morning, internet people. Welcome to another Sunday in TinyTown. I’m on coffee number two, a second pot is sort of brewing, and Shawshank has found something on Netflix. We’re both in jammies still. A basket of laundry swirls about the washer.
We went shopping yesterday, a 35 minute drive from the Flat. We hit three stores for everything we needed on the list, plus a dispensary and a small antique store just to look around. You really need to plan for everything when shopping; there’s no “I’ll just pop out for _____” if you forget something. I can’t think of anything we forgot, but I know we probably did.
Shawshank pointed out that I have no idea where to look when we’re out on the road. He pulled over on the ride back to the flat. We had just come over the crest of a hill, looking down into one of the little valleys. “I knew you wouldn’t have asked to stop”, he said.
Sundays are chore days here at the Flat. In addition to the laundry, I can hear Shawshank futzing around the bathroom. At some point he’ll make us some brunch. Later this afternoon, we’ll leave for a walk out to his parents’ house for dinner at Shady Acres.
It almost feels normal.
Not like a vacation.
