we sleep in long enough that the sunlight streams through our blinds. we listen to the latin pop station on pandora far too loud and dance like we're from south america. papa makes english muffins and fills our home with the crackling pop of cooking sausage. it's a bedhead acceptable morning, and it is okay lounge around in your sweats and sing very loudly to the spanish tunes we know. it's a beautiful lazy sunday. i'm going to miss this.
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