[photo by the lovely Heather]
So, I tend to approach life full-throttle. For better or worse. This morning it was worse, because I ate it on the pavement by my car on a busy street in front of a whole row of men cat-calling me. Came in to work late and with a bleeding elbow (and with wet hair sans makeup, which isn't even a huge deal but definitely doesn't help matters here). The men did impressively transition from cat-calling creepers to concerned gentlemen, though, which is a nice redemptive ending to my Friday morning story.
I can't decide if this is a new low, or if this is actually progress from one summer when I hit two parked cars in one go or another summer when I lived in a flea-infested apartment, among other things.
Wait, I've decided. I'm gonna call it progress. I have much more to share with y'all; but, alas, the time is passing anyway and off I go!
PS - can I get a serious fist bump for completely moving myself? I mean, really. This wasn't packing up a college dorm and this wasn't "mostly me but with a little help from somebody else." This was me packing up my entire life and moving it. All of it. All.by.my.lonesome. Which was exhausting but weirdly empowering yo. And yes, my newfound love of coffee has quickly become a necessary addiction, but it's understandable, right?