Sunday.

Sunday is generally quite a good day for me.

It's not even eleven a.m yet, and I have already put in a load of laundry and had some coffee. As for the rest of the day, the sky is truly the limit.

For me, a Sunday is like a 'wildie' that Dan and Ed might track in the deep woods. Elusive? Yes. Majestic? Certainly. And worth the wait. Yes, how like a 'wildie' is this Sunday, already galloping away from me though it feels as if it has just begun.

Catherine has a new office with a window and a nameplate. From her window she can see the North Shore mountains and Lion's Gate Bridge. I wonder what she thinks about when she looks out that window? I think she dreams of Sundays with me, or else dim sum.

From my cubicle I can see the Real Canadian Superstore on Kingsway. If I crane my neck I can see into the common kitchen area, where people often post threatening, carefully-typed messages reminding their co-workers not to leave dirty dishes in the sink.

Yes, Sundays are to be enjoyed.