It’s that kinda morning.
Lingering abed is the best. Julie left ages ago and I hear random puttering in the kitchen. The whirring sound is new and I suspect it has to do with the shiny contraption on the counter that appeared yesterday. From the aroma in the air, sniff sniff sniff . . . it has something to do with coffee. The sounds of clanging and banging like percussion instruments being played badly are not those associated with making my breakfast.
So I continue enjoying the morning from this end of the bed.