At 12:00 PM, I walked ten minutes to Albertsons for ingredients to make Brain David Gilbert's perfect breakfast sandwich. I am young and my pan collection is minimal. And so: I secured my first griddle.
There is nervous humility in holding double-bagged groceries in one fist and a new griddle in the other (found only in the outer-city suburbs. ) An off-duty ambulance passed me, the driver did a double-take, and I kept moving.
My wallet is a "Ugly Lime Green Nintendo DS Carry Soft Case Travel BAG." An ebay.com prize. Attached to its shoulder strap are rattling, glow-in-the-dark keychains, and my keys. In its game cartridge slots are $1.40 in coins.
At 1:30 PM, I unlocked my front door and spilled $0.42 in coins onto my porch.
My roommate believes coins are useless and throws them into the street. I believe coins are American heirlooms. Some quality within this difference in values may be the crux of our tense relationship.
At 5:00 PM, Sabin and I ate the perfect breakfast sandwich. It tasted like a Brooklyn line cook called us "boss."
I spent $5.00 on scratch tickets. Won $2.00.
I am a writer. I am a florist. I am a yarn shop's social media manager, newsletter writer and website designer.
I enjoy knitting. I enjoy flowers. I have mixed emotions on writing, much like I have mixed emotions on getting out of bed.