The spring afternoon, Sunday, a time for You. But there are responcibilities that just our weigh the you in most things ‘sunday’. Tale a trip to the parents ok nice when they come to you??? Holds up the process of Sunday. Well as I write thoughts and feelings get mixed up to the point of asking am I being selfish?
When I was a kid every Friday we drove the 25 mind to grand parents for tea. Ritual every week I was bored. Thin dinner, don’t know why I remember it as thin but meat was thin potatoes thin veneer of mash, browned in the fry pan, and the worst…. Thin custard.
The digression was, that I think the person who created the ritual, and she has many, has another that is sunday for her and anti Sunday for us. Love my mother dearly but the need for Sunday at our place is as opressive as the need for me to be at her place Wednesday, just after 9 amfor the cuppa and a one sided chat where I get told of every relation I have what they are doing and the endless other ramblings she needs to tell other friends, not me. The relations in UK rarely saw us. Why do I care.
Enough. Sunday is for the relations. Suck it up, that’s it.
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