I took myself out for breakfast this morning, daughter snoozing nearby in the stroller. Outdoor seating with live music, I ate food I hadn't cooked on a dish I hadn't washed and lazily watched passersby and listened to the day's work get started around me, which I was happily
not doing.
Oh-wait-huh?- I shake my head and snap out of my reverie...this is my back porch, we're home from a walk, the birds are singing, the re-heated french toast made by hubby was delicious on the dishes he did yesterday. Cars are backing out of driveways and heading to work, robins and grackles are terrorizing the worms, and the lumber mill beyond the tracks has been rumbling since dawn.
It's a spring morning at home, but, pending one's perspective, that's a delightful treat!
p.s. As a tribute to my Dad: how many times, as we set the picnic table for supper, did he pull the line "wow- we're eating out for dinner!" or something like that.
