I have a love-hate relationship with Sundays.

Sometimes, Sundays are wonderful. I wake up bright and early to the sound of birds chirping away outside my window. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the world could not be more saturated with possibilities. I roast a cup of coffee, make myself an enormous breakfast, and start planning my day.
Other times, Sundays are the worst. I wake up half past noon with a splitting headache and what must be the world’s worst hangover. My breath reeks and I look like a zombie because I didn’t bother washing off my eyeliner before going to bed. My room is a mess because I’d been looking for that one cute purse the night before and then had promptly ran out the door. I stumble towards the kitchen and down a vitamin pill and an extra-strength Tylenol with a glass of juice, then collapse into a heap, waiting for my head to remove itself from my body so I would stop feeling this unbelievable, pounding agony.

Today was one of those “Good Sundays.” What makes today even better is that tomorrow, I don’t have class! In fact, I don’t have class again until September!

So instead of studying for exams, I celebrate. In the manner of a true foodie, I cook, I blog, and then I cook some more. This must be what it feels like to be an addict.