Dear Sunday,

This is just a little note to let you know that I love you.

I love someone else cooking me breakfast (this morning: waffles with fresh strawberries) and making me delicious coffee.

I really love having time to bake a little treat (this afternoon: banana, choc chip and orange muffins devoured with lashings of french butter).

I also love spending time doing things at the cafe (today: covering the windows with paper so we can now conduct secret business).

The only thing that I don’t love about you, dear Sunday, is that because of you, I know what tomorrow holds (i.e Monday).

’til next week,

fat chops



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