Quiet mornings

Happiness is...

This fresh Sunday morning. Sitting around in my peaceful apartment, enjoying my time, and for once in my week not being disrupted by the heffalumps upstairs.

Let me back up for a second. They're not actually the size of heffalumps, so that's not entirely fair. Or maybe that's why it bothers me even more, because I know the stomping and running and giggling that permeates my bedroom can be helped. Do you need to take 14 trips to the bathroom at 10pm? Certainly not. Do you need to stomp up your stairs screaming to the people you left in the parking lot at 1am? Dear God no. But you do it all anyway.

So yes, Ms. Creak-creak-bang-slam, I look forward to my Sunday mornings. Because they're all I've got to hold on to my sanity. They're my only escape from the echo of your bed frame or the pounding of your shower. Ahhh, sweet release.