Today as I drove home from church with my window rolled down, I saw families of a variety of different faiths and attire walking home from church. I saw teenagers and young adults talking to friends and significant others. I saw an old motorcycle gang riding leisurely through the streets of Cottonwood Heights.
When I got home, I immediately changed into my comfy clothes. I put some meat in the crock pot. I ate a chicken salad sandwich (or, as I prefer to call it, a "chicken fish" sandwich) and some grape tomatoes. Then I happily sunk into my Sunday-nap coma, the delicious smells of dinner slowly permeating my dreams. Upon waking, I saw that the sun was still shining and I had an entire glorious afternoon ahead of me, one that I could fill with whatever I wanted. To top it all off, I had a real meal (and possibly some chocolate cookies) and a perfect fall evening preparing to greet me, and thoughts of Monday morning haven't crossed my mind yet.
If only every day could be Sunday afternoon.