Been sloughing off the cautionary and feel almost completely broken in to the experience. That’s a funny choice of words, though, now that I think about it: a female at my second to last job told someone in my first week that I looked “broken in.” So for the first year, I would always cough the insult out really loudly when she walked by me. An elephant never forgets.
Wore this out to dinner with the girls the other night—we hit Lulu’s downtown and I managed to escape unscathed by any hangover. Martini security.
T-shirt and shorts: it’s the uniform.
Other things I’ve been up to.
Biking around the ‘hood a lot:
Including biking into the hood for Bloody’s at The Black Sheep:
And strolling a few blocks down to pick up my dry cleaning after a Saturday run:
I don’t know why dry cleaning retrieval required photo documentation, but I was smiling like an idiot the whole way there and felt compelled. The journey, however, was sandwiched by terrifying encounters with a resident, plantain-sized wasp who does this dance with me—dear God, it’s awful—like that thing where you go to pass someone on a sidewalk but keep bobbing into the line of fire. Only, he is doing it purposely:
[You go right? Then imma go right! I smell your fear, soldier.]
Look at him! He even casts a shadow! Like a Japanese Zero buzzing the rooftops of Pearl Harbor.
And there have been some picnics…
… and picnicy clothes…
[New neon J.Crew button-up
scored snahged at something absurd like 90% off.]
…but, no pickanick baskets.
That’s all to report right now. Hot as Hades and confined to position under fan until more errands in air conditioned automobile present themselves. Watching Die Another Day last night was a bad move.