Gluttons of Sunday

Our downstairs currently registers a balmy 57 degrees Fahrenheit (relief and repair hopefully come tomorrow). We clad ourselves in scarves, fleece and many layers to no warm avail. To rescue our cold noses and toeses, hubby suggested warm refuge in Mommy & Daddy's bed. So we retreated upstairs to flannel-ville. Hubby read the paper. Abby and I watched whatever TBS threw our way (Cheaper by the Dozen entertained us while I salivated over the stay-at-home mom becoming a national bestselling author). Henry's imagination entertained him--my red flannel duvet became a boat, a ship and a helicopter carrying him to distant lands at the southern border of the bed.

Simplicity, warmth and laziness reigned. What started as a necessity for bodily warmth became a salve for our frenetic lives; our souls exhaled. We lay there, spent, the gluttons of Sunday.