Self-care Sunday crashed into my life like a rogue marshmallow in my Denver apartment last fall. Sun leaks dusty. Succulent droops judgmental. Robe smells like yesterday. I shovel cereal, milk drips chin. These rituals? They yanked me from Monday dread. Ghosted brunches. That Target run in PJs for wine. I’m a Rocky Mountain slob. I hike in flip-flops. Eat gas-station sushi. Cancel plans for naps. Here’s my pastel-stained, crown-ghost truth, typos incoming.
The Cold Coffee Windowsill (Self-Care Sunday, Morning Mush)
Coffee nuked, forgotten, cold. Sipped anyway. Stared sky. Yup. Psychology Today reset. Licked spoon. Felt human.
Why Self-Care Sunday Loves Stale
Fresh overrated. Stale honest. Tip: Let coffee cool—sip slow, no rush.
The Tub Overflow Lo-Fi (More Self-Care Sunday)
Phone teetered TP roll. Bubbles tsunami. Lo-fi beats. care Sunday in prune skin? Soaked joy.
- Slipped getting in.
- Laughed echo.
- Stayed hour.
The Mask-and-Memes Nap (Care Sunday, Bed Bunker Edition)
Sheet mask slid eye. Scrolled cats. Dozed. Self-care Sunday with crusty face? Dreamy. Mindful.org recharge.
Brain lag — ritual 4?
Whatever, flow.
Nap to Porch Care Sunday
- Spilled polish toe.
- Wiped grass.
- “Pretty enough.” Mumbled barefoot. Self-care Sunday, sticky steps.
The Lucky Charms Robe Dangle
Cereal box tipped. Marshmallows floor. Ate anyway. Self-care Sunday crunch-style.
Succulent to Sun Leak
Plant labeled “try.” Watered. Sun hit. Hope?
PJ Target Wine Self-Care Sunday
PJs Target. Bought candles…and chips. Lit one. Ate all.
Wrap mush — self-care sunday, later gator
Cold coffee. Overflow tubs. Sticky polish. care Sunday glues my flip-flop chaos. I still ghost. Eat bad sushi. Nap wrong. These rituals? Lifelines. Spilling. Pick one lazy. Do half-assed. Spill cereal story below. I read chugging cold brew, probably crunchy. Sunday sloppy, y’all, or skip.
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