What a Sunday should look like.

Mike left at 7 o'clock this morning to go to the Giants game with his dad. I was sad to see him go, but excited for an entire day of absolutely no obligations. There aren't many freedoms such as that. I got my hair cut, read at 1369 with coffee and a chocolate croissant, made myself a big lunch, baked pumpkin spiced whoopee pies, watched The Office and retaught myself to knit. Tonight I'm writing, reading, enjoying a homemade pumpkin spice whoopee pie and a white russian while Ray LaMontagne serenades me. Poor Mike is stuck in traffic, and I'm secretly enjoying my prolonged hours of SSMT (sustained silent Mel time). Twenty-five keeps getting better by the day.