Wednesday Morning

Almost 10:30. The smell of fried bacon permeates the house. Pancake batter is mixed to perfect lumpiness. I will pour myself another cup of coffee, cuddle up on the couch with my laptop, and enjoy this silence and solitude.

I wonder which of the seven young women sleeping in this house will be the first up?

I wonder when the last breakfast will be served?

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12:10 Breakfast is served

And spring has sprung