My dear husband brought breakfast to me this morning before I got out of bed. He's done it before but it's been a while and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it. The meal was simple, just coffee and a piece of toast. But the act of getting up, going downstairs, letting the dogs out, feeding the dogs, letting them out again all while prepping the food takes some time and effort. Not to mention the kitchen is downstairs and it's chilly in the house in the morning. We enjoyed our coffee while still nestled under the warm covers.
This simple pleasure is still new to us. This never would have (or could have) happened when we lived on the dairy. Leroy was ALWAYS up way before me and headed out the door before I knew he was gone. There are no weekends for a dairyman. No sleep-in-Sundays. Every day was the same.
I don't miss that part. And I really have grown quite fond of our quiet weekends. I hope I always appreciate them as I do now.