Getting used to working Sundays.

6am Sunday is not a beautiful time to be alive.
There are three types of people awake at that time:
- People such as myself, still sleepy, still a little confused about being torn from warm beds and heading into the freezing Melbourne morning to work.
- Those who are still drunk and most likely emptying the contents of their stomachs from last nights binge drinking session, or causing trouble with local signage.
- Cyclists. But not the kind that you like. The ones that wear that soul-destroying lycra, its like green glad wrap for the middle aged man, its like the new midlife-crisis sports car. The ones that take joy in overtaking this little lady rudely in the bike lane.

So you can understand why getting used to working Sundays is a little hard then.
Although I do take joy in making peoples last glimpse of freedom before delving into another weeks toil seem everlasting. I have spent far too many Sundays in search of a nice place to devour some eggs and come up empty handed. So now its my chance to give people a little weekend respite.

All of that said, today was lovely. The Panama Santa Teresa Honey was incredible. I also gave my darker roasted blend a spin in the afternoon. Its still not quite there but its close. Mark drew me a picture to cheer me up.

It worked.

The light at the end of the tunnel was going to my dear friend Stephs and devouring home made, wood fired pizzas in her housemates very own keg-come-pizza oven that he made himself. The best bit was the nutella and banana calzone for desert.
Who knew the sabbath could be so productive.