I woke up at 7am. I wake up at 3:30am on weekdays, so I usually can't stay in bed much later than sunrise on the weekends. Jeff was snoring so peacefully. He'll usually get up around the same time that I do, but I could tell he needed some extra rest so I corralled the meow gang out of the room and shut the door. I spent the next two hours watching workout videos that we have saved on the computer. I wasn't working out. But watching them is motivating sometimes.
I was building up a pretty ferocious appetite watching all these lunges and squats. Thankfully, Jeff came padding through the house around 9am and I volunteered to cook breakfast, as long as he didn't mind toast instead of pancakes. Jeff is the pancake man. I, however, am fantastic at toasting bread. I fried up some sausage and eggs and pigged out next to Jeff on the couch. He realized that they were going to show the space jump live on Discovery, so we watched an episode of Mythbusters while waiting for the winds to die down.
At some point, I dozed off and caught a nice two-hour nap. Jeff worked on our slow cooker chili. I woke up and snuggled up next to him while he got anxious and excited about the man in the little silver cylinder rising up into the sky. The next two hours seemed like only a few minutes, and then he was standing on the edge of his little step, telling us about how sometimes you need to be up that high to realize how small you are.
It was a beautiful Sunday morning. A day later, I still feel very close to the divine.
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