Sunday used to my favourite day when I was little.
Usually it still is. I like the feel of the day... an indulgent breakfast, the FT, the NYT, coffee, the sense that its ok not to do that much.
But recently, I've had two Sundays where I felt anxious. Not about anything specific just generally.
I went to the park with the boys and didn't help. I worked on a power point, it made it worse. I hit the treadmill, menh.
I made these muffins. And then, walking I saw R, sitting on the front steps, helping Seth make origami sea turtles, and it was a good good moment.
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