Perfect Sunday

Q: What makes a perfect Sunday for you?

As I sit and survey what I can see in my rental home from my oversized recliner, I see what I consider to be my perfect Sunday.

My wife and I; we sit together underneath a spare comforter from the closet. It smells like the French bulldog that is currently cradled in between my lover’s legs - Peacefully sleeping, possibly dreaming of whatever it is that makes up a perfect Sunday for her. My wife disturbs her by picking her up and holding her in her arms like she is our child. My wife loves this but the look on Ninja's face as she readjusts herself is that of pure annoyance. 

It's a rarely warm night for February so we have the majority of the windows open. Peacefulness exists outside and is only broken up by the occasional low-flying airplane that passes overhead. The only light on in the house is a standing lamp in the front corner of the living room. Giving just enough light to signify that it's time to relax, but not quite time to sleep.

I got off work around 7:30 AM this morning; home by 7:45. My wife is still in bed. I fell in beside her with my shoes still on. I need to take a shower though. I still smell like the ship. If you're wondering what that smells like, it's stale. That's the only word I can give it. I tear myself away from wife and take a shower.

I know it goes without saying, but showers are probably one of the greatest things to happen to mankind ever. Hands down. I think I take a special enjoyment in the act of showering. It's nothing perverted. I just relish in the feeling of the water running over my face, as the spray falls on the top of my head and cascades down through my hair. Cleansing. Refreshing. A chance to wash away the stench of a hard day's work and bring in the new day. A perfect day.

After my shower I get into my favorite pair of cookie pants. For those of us who have not had the pleasure of watching Scrubs, “cookie pants” is a term used to describe any pair of pants that are made entirely of cotton and have elastic in them, anywhere in them. This single element is what really makes this day perfect. We went to breakfast at The House of Eggs in them. We went grocery shopping in them. We went to our favorite sushi place for lunch in them. I am still wearing them as I type this. The freedom. The lightness of the material. There is no better feeling than cotton on the skin - except satin but that is a different kind of good feeling and should be left in the bedroom. 

Cotton. It's the fabric of our lives. Well, at least the fabric of my perfect Sunday.