Ah Sunday, sunny glorious Sunday with the birds chirping in the trees, the chimes tinkling in the breeze and a house alarm sounding in the (not very distant) distance. Because it just wouldn’t be a Sunday in the suburbs without the house alarm serenade.
Saturday night conversation:
She: I think we should have a kid next year.
He: I’m exhausted, I can’t have this conversation right now.
She: Okay. Then we should get a dog.
Sunday morning revelation:
On a more domestic note, holiday baking is done, parcelled up and currently taking up space in the fridge. Fortunately I had tasted so many samples and tidbits in the making and packing that I’m actually quite sick from all the sweets so they’re all going to survive until Christmas when I hand them out.
And still the house alarm continues. Hopefully it will drowned out by the approaching thunderstorm.