Waking up at eight, an unparalleled luxury. It is also one of those mornings where everything is at equilibrium, so you can sleep under the blankets with your arms over the top, and your body is not too warm and your arms are not too cold. The pillows are exactly right.
Then, waffles for breakfast with the last of the buttermilk (expired 5 days ago, but it's perfectly fine and also lends a certain edge to your victory over food waste) and half a box of wilty strawberries, resurrected with a little water and some sugar and turned into a perfectly good, sweet-yet-tart strawberry sauce to go over the fresh buttermilk waffles (raised with whipped egg whites for that extra fluffiness). There may or may not be chocolate chips at the insistence of your husband.
Then, after all that, some strong Vietnamese style coffee and a book while your husband goes back to bed to ward off a headache. Playing some guitar and putting the final touches on a song you wrote a couple weeks ago but forgot about and never finished. Deep conditioning your hair with a free sample you got from the salon and looking forward to leftover hot wings for lunch.
Ah, the beauty of a Saturday. Too bad you have to ruin it later with a memo that needs to be written by Monday. But for now, just listen to the dishwasher run, your husband playing classic rock acoustic style, watch the way the sunlight just barely misses entering your apartment through the sliding doors, and enjoy.