Lazy days are like eating brownies for breakfast: it’s a magical start to any day, even if you feel like a muggle by the end. Saturday at 2:30 am, my day of leisure begins. After feeding my bun-bun, I dive for a quick 12-hour nap beneath the covers. I wake up and check the fridge. If nothing is available, I’ll either order via DoorDash or snuggle back under my comforter until my tummy decides the buffet in my dreams is all the food it needs. By the time I wake for the third time, the sun has said goodnight, and I’m ready to begin my night owl duties.
Regarding lazy days, it’s easier to feel rested when there is a lack of productivity—a packaged deal.
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