There may be nothing better than breakfast on the back patio of a Sunday Morning.
Steaming mugs of coffee, one after the other.
Thick slabs of warm oatmeal bread, fresh from the oven, slathered in real butter. The air just crisp enough, just early enough, to want a sweatshirt. Sliding glass door open so I can hear the news, and then the machine gun bursts of arguing over the remote, and then strains of cartoon title sequence music floating out...
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