Coffee tastes wonderfully dirty and almost ethereal when coupled with a blueberry Clif. Breakfast of champions.
So this is the price I pay for being responsible. Single-handedly handling my own apartment, utilities, car, fuel, insurance, telephone, and groceries means I have far less money to travel with. The one thing I would choose to do, I can’t. At least not without a long, arduous saving process. Temptation teases me – should I be jealous? jealous of those with the liberty to live with their immediate family at such low cost, and the luxury of stockpiling their earnings for things such as a jaunt down to San Cristobal or Misol Ja, a sail across the North Atlantic for a holiday in Ireland?
Jealousy is not an option. Everyone must learn to take care of themselves at some time or another. This blessing for that, a commerce of pros and cons. Upon further consideration, I realize I would never trade what I have in an apartment of my own for what I might have had if I had chosen to live with my family. For one thing, it is necessary in the sharing of a family house that said family be tolerant of their adult daughter’s life and beliefs, regardless of their non-agreement with said items. I couldn’t stand to live with someone who, after countless attempts on my part to reach a ‘live-and-let-live’ truce, insisted that I either believe their way or head for the highway. I have always loved traveling…
My beloved nuclear-blue thermos has been rescued. I had left it behind at the Renaissance several weeks ago. What a tragic mistake.
Today I matched my environment -- the office colors and my outfit consisted of olive greens, gold & brass, soft whites and more stone shades.
I have GOT to eat hearty breakfasts more often. Fewer rushed, too-short mornings would aid this. Hello, old lady bedtime.