so it appears i may have lied to you.
i hope you won't hold a grudge against me, but there is no sunday six this week either.
please forgive my being given to such erratic changeableness. i know it; i am as fickle as a pickle is sour. or sweet.
depending on the pickle.
and now i'm confusing my own self with my own metaphor.
obviously, making up metaphors is not my special purpose.
however, i do hope that you'll have a lovely, loungey sunday. you know the ones. the kind filled with lounging and napping and stretching like a cat. i hope that your day is like that.