Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Five
Eleven hours of sleep and I still don’t want to get out of bed.
Loud turkey. Fresh, cool air.
Enjoying the quiet while it lasts.
Meetings and meetings and meetings and meetings.
Why is it that the default response is to blame a character flaw in the other person? An unwillingness to look at the root cause.
That text is a bright spot in the day. This is what matters to me more.
The things people say.
A windows-down kind of evening. Though the one thing I miss about humidity is how much softer it makes your skin feel.
She wants to drive everywhere now.
Still no groceries. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.