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Sunday progressed as Sundays should. A mid-morning shower to remove the smoke and sweat of Saturday night. A few Ibuprofen washed down with potatoes, eggs and mimosas.

Back in bed with a buzz and a full belly, kamikaze raindrops flutter the leaves outside my window. Inching deeper into a down nest, I keep peripheral tabs on the weather above my book. I will away the ominous sunshine in exchange for greyer skies and fatter raindrops.

Hypnotized by turning pages, soon the book lies open on my chest, and morning champagne eases my eyelids closed.

There will be time to write, to clean, to organize, to pack, to ship fish … but let those thoughts wait their turns. Now is the time to worship the holiness of hedon Sunday with a meditative nap.

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