Sybaritic Sundays

I had to resort to for a *real* definition of sybaritic. I knew (from reading all sorts of inappropriate material at too young an age) that it meant extreme luxury and/or wallowing in said luxury, but I didn’t know its origins. Turns out that Sybaris was a Greek city-state known for, you guessed it, the extremely luxurious lifestyle of its inhabitants, etc., etc.  I’m sure they drove the Spartans mad (if they overlapped in history or geography).

Alliteratively speaking, Sundays sings of sybaritic sleep. To wallow in blankets and burrow in pillows and ignore morning light in favor of the view inside my eyelids. To know all is quiet on the canine front; she, too, stays in bed, ocasionally stiffening her hairy dog legs with the pleasure of a good stretch. Sometimes she dreams–flexing her paws, wagging against the floor, making dream barks that sound like the Cowardly Lion trying to convince the audience of his courage.

What has this to do with my avowed purpose of discussing all things local? Nothing, except that it’s MY locale, this Sunday morning…note to self: either move computer closer to bed or communicate thoughts via mobile phone. Much more conducive to truly productive wallowing!

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