I’m on the couch, on a Friday morning. British and Irish accents mix with the sound of cars outside the window. Tiger Woods is putting for birdie on the 15th hole. The Open Championship is at St. Andrews this year.
After waking, I made cranberry-chocolate-chip waffles. Ralph, the goldendoodle, slept on his bed in the kitchen.
A cup of tea rests in my lap, malty Yorkshire Gold settled in a yellow mug. My legs are covered with a fleece blanket.
This is nice.