Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Seven
Sprinklers. I knew I should have closed the door.
I must be waking up too late to see the snails.
We both apologize for sleeping in. I’m too late to do anything too creative for breakfast this morning. I grab a slice of toast and she decides on a mouthful of cherries.
Grateful that we made the time.
I remind myself that I don’t have to read anymore of it. Five chapters in and nothing resonating. I can let it go. It’s okay to quit it.
I’m okay with this being a part of my personality.
They decide that they’ll pipe the pavlovas onto the parchment paper. Though they are a little brown, they are the best ones she’s ever made.
Emotional cooking. Emotional eating. Everyone loves this recipe.