Friday, January 25, 2013

(just barely) Friday morning

tastes like: Vietnamese drip coffee and condensed milk at eight in the evening, because I'm an adult and make wise food decisions like that. One regular No. 1 bowl of pho, the one that has everything, with meatballs, please.

feels like: Sweet darling, I hope it doesn't snow tomorrow. I enjoy snow, but only when I do not have to leave my bed. I'm over this winter nonsense. I wore five layers yesterday. That's four layers too many.

smells like: fresh coffee at Society Fair, snow in the air, and wool.

(I hope that this is a reference to The Gods Must Be Crazy, because then their cool points just jumped tenfold.)

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