One of the best feelings in life is waking up on that one Sunday morning a year when you look at the clock that says "8:05", when you know that it is really "7:05" because the time changed during the night.
Jerry, who is not usually one to wake up early, wanted to go somewhere for breakfast, so he and I, just the two of us, went to The Egg and I cafe in South Minneapolis, where I had oatmeal with brown sugar and an English muffin that was unfortunately hard as a rock. And great coffee.
So leisurely. We don't get it often enough. Then Jerry was off to work, and I had no excuses, so I went to church.
By 5 P.M., it was dark.