Actually, don’t. I know it’s labor day, but I think the hidden meaning behind it is, “dooo noooothing todaaaaay.” And by nothing, I’m pretty sure it excludes the following:
* drinking lots of hot coffee.
* finishing Fifty Shades of MY EYES. MY EEEEYES.
* flipping through the pages of the 45 trillion magazines at the end of the couch that may or may not piss off your husband every other hour when he accidentally knocks them over.
* making a velvety river of breakfast with this uuunbelievable Poached Egg Bruschetta thingy.
* taking a long walk through the neighborhood with your pup, kicking the crispy leaves on the sidewalk as you go.
* making up and loudly singing a song about kicking said crispy leaves and annoying the tar out of the local neighborhood folk.
* contemplating washing your hair, and quickly deciding against it.
* throwing together this super light and deeeelishush Greek Yogurt Chicken Salad for lunch or dinner or mid-day snack or probably now.
* watching a movie mid-afternoon. or a forensics marathon! (my family just rolled every single one of their eyes)
* swatting flies and frying okra like they do in the south.
* THE FLIES IN MY HOUSE ARE SO EVIL. But I don’t waaaaaanna close the dooooooraaaa.
* oh, the okra thing? it’s RED okra, dudes. mmmm. i’ll show you later today on the ‘gram, after I accidentally burn my house down.
Hope you guys have a supeeeerb laborless day!