Dave and I put in an offer for a house we loved on Sunday night, immediately after coming home from taking a tour.
It was a mid-size colonial, sprawling front and back yards with mature tree plantings, 2 car garage, 4 bedrooms, charmingly off-kilter bathrooms that we hated but also found endearing (dated floral tiles, shower doors etched with cartoon swans), a cozy kitchen with a carved out breakfast nook. Hardwood floors in every room but one. New appliances. Appropriately spaced from neighbors, on a charming winding block that you can walk a dog in or take a jog without feeling like you’re a step away from being murdered or kidnapped. A mint-colored front door that I had mixed feelings about, but once I saw it, felt like a sign.
I fell off the wagon for my reading list last year after work got super busy, then fell into the pattern of using social media scrolling + TV to soothe my brain instead of reading. I didn’t really set any ~intentions~ for this year but I want to get back into the swing of reading, and reading a more diverse range of books that are challenging and enriching, and not just escape-y, formulaic thrillers.
If I’m being honest I’m beating myself up a little for only reading four books last month – in my element I’d read 4-5 books in a week, sometimes 2 a day if it’s a slow weekend – but it’s a start, and 4 books in a busy month isn’t a bad count.
There is a heavy assumption that this is part one because I go to the Trader Joe’s by work at least twice a month, if not more since I’m always hunting for the Riced Cauliflower bowls (best easy healthy frozen meal, hands down), but also because they’re constantly adding new things and I’m constantly discovering new things. My favorites of the moment are these 10 things, in no particular order.
It feels very strange to call myself a writer and not write in a meaningful capacity; I have my job, sure, which requires a lot of writing; a store which I half-ass a lot of marketing copy for (or really excel at, when I’m in that particular mood). But other than Instagram captions and the occasional self-indulgent and self-deprecating tweet, I feel like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to write for fun and to get my feelings out in an unconfined space. This is the morning, I think. This is the stretch before I get down to the real work of it.