I suppose there is an upside to getting up between five-thirty and six in the AM over a weekend.
Sure, not being able to sleep due to severe headaches and claustrophobia isn’t really my cup of tea (you get used to it, though), but the good thing is that you can be productive. Case is point: after reading, cleaning, organizing, washing my hair and all such things, I decided to bake scones for breakfast (probably another one of those ‘genes’ things).
My Significant Other was very pleased.
So from now on, I think Sundays will officially be known as Scone Day at our apartment. I’m sure somewhere there is written: “He said: ‘Let there be scones!!’ … and she asked: ‘How many?'”
[If she were cunning, however, she’d get him to make them himself… or maybe she’d be sarcastic or witty or something. At least, I hope she would be…]
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