There is something about Sunday that just makes me smile. Perhaps it is the quiet after the storm of Saturday night activities. Perhaps it is the built-in idea of rest. The town where I live has some sort of ordinance that relegates the big chain stores to the fringe of town rather than in the downtown area. So all the little shops and businesses in the downtown are mom and pop stores. None of them open before noon on Sunday. Some don't open at all. I like this feeling that there is more to life than commerce and capitalism. That it's okay not to chase the almighty dollar for just one day. I like the quiet of Sunday morning. On Saturdays, it feels as if the whole world is up and making noise at the crack of dawn. But not Sunday. It's slower on Sunday too, like a lazy summer afternoon. I don't feel bombarded or rushed. I have this line from a song in my head: 'Easy like Sunday morning..." That's it exactly - easy. I can putz around my house watering the plants, watching the cats get trapped in sunbeams, listening to the cicadas and the whir of fans. No phones, no appointments, no deadlines, just peace and the sweetness of life's rhythmn enveloping me. Sunday will always be the perfect day.