Days Out


I wake up without the alarm, which happens to be only twelve minutes later than my alarm would have gone off.  I don’t mind, in a way it’s sort of pleasant.  All the joy of sleeping in without the hassle of getting up late and feeling as if the majority of my day has been lost.  I’m trying to work on how the clock owns me.  I don’t want it to.  I want to enjoy a perfectly symbiotic relationship with my itouch, my cellphone and the subway clocks, but I don’t.  Not right now at least.  It’s almost a blessing that my favorite coach watch stopped working.  I don’t have to worry that I’ll be late.  But I still do.

I have a doctor appointment this morning, which I am not looking forward to. I never do.  There has always been some misplaced fear going into those small, pristine white rooms.  It’s a fear I’m trying to work through.  At least I no longer get blood tests through the tip of my finger anymore.  That was what the doctor meant to me for the first, oh I don’t know, seven, perhaps, years of my life.  I remember the time when the office broke the vial of blood and I had to go back to get another bit of blood drawn.  I did NOT want to give the nurse my finger.  Eventually I did, but it was with a lot of cajoling from my mother.  I’m pretty sure that Barbie was involved.

We’re going to The Spotted Pig for lunch today.  I have been dying to go for such a long time!  Part of the reason I chose today is because I knew I wouldn’t have breakfast so the idea of eating a plate of decadent ricotta gnudi seems less over-the-top.  Is that wrong?  Who knows.  My mother and I have already poured over the lunch menu and practically deduced what we’re going to get.  Hopefully we won’t have to wait long for a table.

There must be coffee.  Any good day must have coffee.  I have mixed feelings about caffeine.  I realize that it is basically a legal drug, then again so is alcohol, but I really truly love it.  In order to protect myself from going insane, I  limit myself to one cup per day.  It must be high quality.  Those sips are always a high point of  my day.  I sit and savor them.  A cooler person might say it is my ‘coffee drinking meditation.’  Today?  New Saturday’s Surf on Perry Street.  One of the best cafes in New York has a new location that I discovered while perusing La Colombe’s blog at work one day.  I was writing an article about coffee, so that detour was warranted.

I’m meeting up with a friend this afternoon.  We’ve known each other since second grade, but we really became close friends in seventh.  We were train buddies for the entirety of high school and one of the strangest things about university has been not seeing him every day.  He’s going to talk to me about changing schools and I am going to listen and support his plans.  I’m going to try to be a good friend.

I love the book I’m reading.  It’s reminding me why I love realistic fiction.  The main character feels like me.  We want similar things.  We have similar experiences.  Her nose goes red as well when she begins to cry.  I’ve always hated that tick with me.  Sometimes I’ll tell myself that it’s okay, strangers don’t know.  And then I find myself waiting for the heathrow connect with a nose that could act as the stop sign down the track.

Who knows what will happen for dinner?  Not having breakfast has given me a bit of a headache and I can feel my wisdom teeth growing in.  I read.  I wait for my parents to come home.  I make plans with friends.

That was all yesterday.  A glorious day.


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