Sundays are for coffee and contemplation and cats and just general laziness

Good morning, world. It’s another damned Sunday. We’re up, gots the covfefe and cats, and the Dateline reruns are on. Let the day begin.

Our road trip was fun. The drive was nice and clear, and we didn’t stop on the way. We saw a lot of deer, a coyote, and a sun dog. There was a bit of trouble finding the place, but only because signage sucked. We walked around and through RVs we’d never dream of owning.

From the RV show, we went to lunch. I ate my customary picky toddler meal of chicken tenders. After lunch, we went to a shopping plaza and split off for a little while. Shawshank and I walked across the parking lot and went to Sally’s. I was thrilled to pick up some bright blue dye, then we headed back out to Walmart. We made a single round of the store, grabbing only a handful of things we had on our list. Shawshank found a thrift store to check out, which was really the only disappointment of the day. The drive back was just as nice as the ride out, aside from a patch of snow flurries.

We made it home before the cats’ dinner time. I’m sure they both thought they had been abandoned for days by the time we arrived. Shawshank made us pizza for dinner, and I played some Breath of The Wild before we settled in for a relaxing night of TV.

Today’s chore day, and the washer is running. Chaucer expects me to get up off the couch soon. He’s pacing the couch between us, hoping to telepathically convey that I need to give up my seat. We don’t have any other plans for the day, opting to skip the Sunday dinner at Shady Acres. There’s a chance we might go out later, but nothing is set in stone.

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