Sleeping in always makes the day easier. A holiday, and best of all, one with no expectations. Although maybe the 'no expectations' part isn't quite true.
This is a day on which I long-ago agreed to always meet a friend for a rendez-vous in a certain park. Good Friday, an easy enough day to remember. Between 12 and 3, a safe enough window of time. And yet again yesterday, he bugged me (okay, reminded me) that I've never once made it there.
Still, this is a day of few expectations. It's a holiday when nobody expects a present or a big fancy dinner. A day for doing nothing more than enjoying life and maybe colouring a few eggs.
After looking at our pile of farm-fresh free-range eggs, I worry about the chicken who laid that gigantic one. I can only think there must be one hen hopping about the yard, clucking ouch, ouch, ouch.