Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, has gotten a massage every Sunday at 6 pm for the last 27 years. Isn't that kind of mind-blowing? (Also kind of mind-blowing: before she was the Barefoot Contessa, she was a nuclear energy budget analyst for the Carter administration. What??)
While my Sunday routine (unfortunately) doesn't involve massages, we've settled into a nice summer rhythm at our house. Sleeping late, egg sandwiches at home, and then walking the dog while we collect our beverages: my cafe au lait from Heritage Bikes and Coffee, and my husband's Coke from Chipotle (oh yes, Chipotle: he's a Coke connoisseur, and swears that theirs is the best). Then we drop the tired little dude at home, bike over to the lakefront, lust after our favorite boats, and read the paper.
Later in the afternoon, we swing by the grocery store on our way home and get stuff for dinner. We've been grilling a lot of fish lately, which fools me into feeling virtuous after indulging in delicious-but-terrible-for-me-food all weekend.
Only problem: after lazing about all day on Sunday, my evening spirals out of control and I try to smash in all the annoying things that I should have been doing earlier (putting away a weekend's worth of discarded outfits, packing lunch, cleaning out the coffee pot for Monday morning, etc.), and I finish my relaxing Sunday at midnight, like a crazy woman. Oh well. I feel like the awesome day that precedes the insanity is totally worth it.
Do you have a Sunday routine? What's your favorite part? And do you have a way to prevent Sunday night panic?
Images: Adam Goldberg/A Life Worth Eating; Daily Frenchie via Note to Self; happy, honey + lark via Note to Self; Toronto Cycle Style Flickr via Note to Self.
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