A Thief in the Night

I walked into the break room this morning to find a fresh pot of coffee sitting on the burner. Finally. For the past two weeks, I’ve been stuck with the remnants of an early morning brew, which I still drink since I’m usually jetting off somewhere and don’t have time to make a new pot. I also have a working dishwasher, four weeks later. It’s been a good day.

To top it all off, I actually slept through the entire night without one single startled interruption. I’m usually a deep sleeper. Not even killer cranking a chainsaw over my bed could wake me. Not the screech of a pterodactyl flying through my living room. If a train ran straight through my apartment, I wouldn’t even notice until the next morning.

But now that I’m living alone, I think my brain is adjusting to the change. It’s preparing me for a break-in, or, since I live in Huntsville, also known as weird weather central, I’ll be ready to flee from my second story apartment when a bad storm strikes. I will awake from any little sound or thump, and the repercussion of this new talent only causes a day of grogginess and misery upon waking.

My tummy is beginning to rumble. I’m tempted to run home and grab food. Perhaps when I’m there, I can change out of this ridiculous outfit. Apparently I forgot to look in the mirror this morning. No, I take that back. I stared at my reflection for a total of 15 minutes this morning while getting dressed. I remember admiring this outfit as I danced around my room to Santigold’s L.E.S. Artistes.

And then I got to work, and all of that zoomed straight out the window. I don’t understand why. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I’m the only one not wearing blazers and button downs, suits and heels. I feel pretty colorful in an office full of gray.

Off to search for features. Stay tuned for photos of my new homemade headboard, courtesy of Pinterest, and the scoop on my latest hair tragedy.


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