Well, let’s be honest, dear friends. When I get home, I’m going to sleep all day.
Except, of course, I’m not. If last year’s Blogathon is any indication, and I have no reason to believe it isn’t, I will go to bed as soon as I get home, say, 10-ish, wake up at noon feeling like I’ve slept the day away even though I’ve only been asleep for two hours, stay awake, and then feel like reconstituted death by the time The Simpsons comes on.
,
So let’s try this...at 9 a.m. I’m going to do my victory lap, thank Julie and G for letting me take up their spare room and eat their foodstuffs and drink their coffee all night long, walk over to the subway, ride down to Bunni’s apartment, feed her cat, and then try to make up my mind: do I go straight home, or do I go out for breakfast? Sweet breakfast or savory? Eggs or cinnamon rolls? Biscuits, maybe? Or do I want to go the minimalist route, with yogurt and apricots? Pierogies, maybe, or blintzes? Naaah. Those will put me in a coma, but not in a good way, and I’ll regret it when I finally do wake up. Toast soldiers and a boiled egg? Amaranth cooked in water and milk, with a little peanut butter stirred in to highlight the flavor of the grain? Is it time for breakfast yet?