Sunday Morning, Coming Down

I'm an early riser, not by choice, but because when the sun comes up, I wake up. My husband is a night owl, preferring to stay up until the wee hours because that's the time he's most creative. He gets up early during the week to make it to work on time, and uses the weekends to catch up on sleep. It's nothing for him to stay in bed til 2:00 or 3:00 in the afternoon. Sometimes I'll stay with him and read. Other times -- like today -- I'll get up and putter around the house.

There are many days when I wish my husband were more of a morning person, but usually not on Sunday. This has become my favorite time of the week. It's quiet out on the street, the newspapers are twice as big as usual, people don't think you're a lush if you have champagne before noon... Listen to Tift Merritt sing "Sunday," and you'll get an idea of what I'm talking about.

This morning I have a bit of a red wine hangover. We had dinner last night with a group of friends whom I haven't seen since I've been back in the big city. As we sat around laughing and talking until the wait staff started dropping serious hints that we should leave, I realized that we hadn't had a "grown up" night out in quite some time. My husband and I seem to spend all of our spare time in the small town either with his kids or in the company of a group of regulars at our favorite bar. While it's done wonders for my knowledge of sports trivia, it's not the social life I'd choose if left to my own devices.

Today, we're going to catch up with some other friends -- new parents with their beautiful, much anticipated high tech baby -- for brunch at a trendy downtown cafe. After that, we're driving out to our new house with a tape measure and a sketch pad to figure out where the movers should put our things when they arrive in a few weeks. Then we'll find a dive bar and catch up on football highlights before the late game comes on.

I'm a little more stream of conscience than usual, but I'm feeling very content today. Life is good.


The Wife Who Knows