This is going to be one of those days where the only human interaction I have is ordering coffee (small, black, room for cream just so I don't spill it).
Living alone, while great, really forces you to become the person who always suggests happy hour. It's lovely to not see anybody first thing in the morning. You can handle your morning breath at whatever pace suits you. You do all of the weird stretching and adjusting while making your first of many cups of tea without having to force conversation. But along with the beauty of silence and privacy in the first 20 minutes of the day comes the realization that you will in fact need to leave your apartment if you want to maintain your sanity in any way. So here I am, at 10 in the morning, already suggesting happy hour.
I thought I'd be all talked out after this weekend, but alas. I find myself filling the notes section of my phone with observations I want to send to the person I saw every day, Friday through Sunday. But for the sake of keeping up the appearance that they aren't friends with a crazy person, I am not sending them on to them.
The objects on my agenda today include relearning statistical analysis for what I believe is the fourth time in my life, conducting interviews about Dust Off (welcome to Texas Creative), planning ways to fill my time when I visit Chicago this weekend, and ignoring the general upkeep of my apartment. Oh, and happy hour.
Currently, I'm sitting in the establishment where the aforementioned coffee was ordered. Watching people scroll through their phone, couples share a lunchtime cupcake, and a gorgeous guy who probably didn't notice me order some iced latte thing. I still haven't touched anything on my to-do list.
-skk