how I feel about this:
I can’t remember the last time all my favorites were still around this far into the competition.
James Wolpert, Cole Vosbury and Will Champlin - you go, boys!
Every damn time I have an early morning meeting I give myself the absolute bare minimum of time I need to get ready.
[and despite the fact that I’ve had more or less the same routine for almost 10 years now, I still seem to think that - if need be - I can somehow get everything done in less time than it always takes me]
This morning I woke up at 7:07am for an 8am meeting. Aggressive, even by my constantly frantic standards.
I managed to shower, dry my hair, steam my sweater, get dressed (duh), walk to the train, miss the first train because a bunch of douchebags pushed in front of me until it was full (#chivalryisdead), get on the next train and get to work at 7:59.
Nevermind the fact that I had to run the five blocks between the train station and my office in winter boots and thought I was seeing the pearly gates of heaven at one moment bc I couldn’t breathe…I made it.
Sometimes it’s just nice to start out the week being super impressed by your own supernatural skillz.
I know that breakfast in bed is seen as some ultra-romantic gesture but to me it sounds like an annoying disaster waiting to happen. I would end up spilling coffee on the duvet and yelling to Danny every five seconds to bring me ketchup or a magazine because I couldn’t get anything for myself.
These are the things that occur to me as I lay in bed, hungry and with the realization that I do need to get up in order to get food.
Ha! How timely. Lest you wonder where my lack of domesticity stems from, an exchange between my mother and I just now:
Me: I really want to make these but they’d take close to two hours.
Mom: That’s insane Martha Stewart shit.
[my mom is actually wonderful at all household things and being nurturing and motherly but cooking for hours on end is not her cup of tea]