Sundays are good for the soul

Sundays are my favorite thing in the world. My latest routine is buying the Sunday New York Times, which, at a whopping six bucks, is a treat in and of itself, and locating a spot on a Panera patio to get fresh air, coffee, and a breakfast sandwich all simultaneously. I stay until I've read the majority of the paper, even occasionally reading the Sports section, watching the suburbanites of Brookline take in their Sundays too, with dogs and babies in tow. Last week I watched a mini rainburst from the comfort of the covered patio, and today I had a great chat with two little girls, one of whom had a Batgirl costume I would've (ok, still would) killed for.

Nothing beats the Sunday NYTimes in hard copy. I usually rip things out, and the format, with inline photos, the ability to jump back and forth between articles, and even getting newsprint ink on my fingertips, is way better than a flickering screen. My guiltiest pleasure of all is the wedding Vows column. The cynic in me secretly loves the charming stories of relationships made good, and whoever writes the column has a non-saccharine way of weaving the tale. If I ever get married, I hope my relationship and my celebration are worthy of being covered in a column. Yes, it makes me feel a little like Katharine Heigl in 27 Dresses, but since I'm sure I'll be subjecte to some ludicrous bridesmaid dresses, the comparison isn't too far off.

Sundays are that potluck day: today I had my newspaper hour(s), cleaned the apartment in a team effort with the roommates, did research on grad schools, watched most of both Legally Blonde movies, and ate Vietnamese food. Productive, cathartic, and relaxing, all in the same day. Plus, now it's only 9 pm, which means watching a little TV (Batman movie = I have such a dirty old man crush on Jack Nicholson), doing more grad school research, and even getting to sleep at a reasonable hour. A potluck, patchwork, slightly ADD day. Exactly what I need before a few days at work and an unexpected trip home for a funeral. On a tangential note: weddings and funerals are bizarre uniters of friends grown apart. I wish it didn't take major events to do that. I also wish funerals didn't happen.