Everyone needs a Sunday like I had today.
I slept in. Surrounded by fluffy pillows and my cozy comforter.
Homemade pancakes were whipped up just for me by my very own personal chef.
The Sunday paper was hand delivered to me by my very own handsome cabana boy.
And as a bonus, I will include a snippet of conversation overheard at my house today:
“Now that’s funny. A smoking monkey is always funny.”
“But so wrong.”
“Yeah, but sooo funny.”
(And no, you don’t actually need it in context. That was the extent of the conversation.)