sunday routine

I just found a new series on The New York Times called "Sunday Routine." It follows how people -- some celebrities, others not -- spend their Sundays. That's quite a treat for voyeurs like me.

My Sunday was spent working, mostly. MSP was here in the little white box; our laptops shared the little coffee table together with two coffee mugs (his contained pineappe juice, mine barako).

Late lunch was smoked fish with a side of veggies and brown rice, and then some fruitcake and tea. It was all work after that. In between spreadsheets, we talked about how our muscles ached from yesterday's workout/run. We're older, he complained, and I saw some lines on his forehead. They looked great. He looks better older and fitter. I love him.

By 8pm, all the work was done. I made pastrami, egg, and mozarella sandwiches for dinner. When I turned around, the sofa was already facing the flat screen. He always knows exactly what to do.

We watched The Blind Side. With my sandwich I had red wine, and I spilled some on the sofa. It came off, thankfully.

After the movie, he washed the dishes, and I wrote this blog entry.

I hope he stays the night because I just want to hug him.

We've spent so many Sundays around the world together, but it's on regular, half-annoying Sundays like this when I really fall in love with him again.