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When Sundays are not really Sundays.

Cute pic, right?

Sun streaming in, puppy with tail wagging, a serene smile over a quiet coffee. Yeah…my Sundays look NOTHING like this.

‘Traditional ideas of what a Sunday should be do not exist around here.’

Most of my work is done on a Sunday – for various reasons I won’t go into – which means I am now in my office, surrounded by paper and half drunk cold coffee. On Sundays, I often hear my husband coming home with the kids after a lovely brisk walk out to the common or a forage in the woods – not me, unwashed and itchy…issa mood for the entire day.

Oh, this is not a complaint post, I love Sundays – it’s my ME time – and I love the work I do. It’s just traditional ideas of what a Sunday is or should be don’t exist around here.

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