I stopped by Foster's Donuts this morning.
Either the woman working misheard me or really likes me, because I requested two sprinkle donuts but when I got to work I discovered three rings of confection in my white paper bag.
Score. Sugary, cakey score.
I've eaten one, not sure when I'll consume the other two. Perhaps I will bring them to the
THIRD ANNUAL GAL PAL GETAWAY
GAL PAL LAURA
for breakfast consumption tomorrow morning.
Who knows when we'll eat them? The world is our oyster. Or donut, as it were.
I went to Alex's improv show last night. I was very impressed by everyone's quick wit, and I never cease to be impressed by Alex's talent.
They did a mock poetry reading, and A pretended to be a painfully shy child and he was just so precious it was all I could do not to squeal from the front row.
So precious. And he's mine. Yay.
Do you ever stop and think about how much our lives can change from week to week?
Par example, last week I spent every night at Alex's place, affixing new bandages to his recent bicycle accident wounds.
This week I've hardly thought about that. But for a week that was my life. This life just changes, swiftly and steadily.
Hmm. Just thought I'd share that little musing.
It's also interesting to me that I can be so wrapped up in a book, and then suddenly stop reading it for a bit and not miss it. I'm reading Marisa de los Santos' "Belong to Me" right now, and it's ridiculously good.
I was tearing through it, but then I just got busy and I haven't touched it too much recently.
I mean, I absolutely look forward to getting back to it, but I'm not actively missing it.
But I feel a twinge of guilt that I'm not driving through it, as though the match of passion has burned out on a crush and I'm wondering why the bottom of my feelings have dropped out. (Except my crush for Marisa de los Santos is still there and I love her work). Is that weird?
I feel similar guilt regarding clothes in my closet that I don't wear very often. I feel as if I'm not giving them adequate attention. Does this stem from my place as a forgotten middle child? Something to explore in therapy...
Who's with me? Inanimate object guilt? Anyone?
I'm sure if my brother Patrick is reading this he's thinking, "Bailey, you're overthinking this." Can't argue with him, but I plan to continue overthinking, thank you very much.
In other Patrick news, he is headed to Africa tomorrow, which will make me and him the only two Brewers to have traveled to the motherland. Holla. Passport club!
My new favorite game at karaoke is to have the DJ pick a song for me. I've told him that basically anything poppy from the 90s is a safe bet. So far he's called me on to the stage to sing Alanis' "You Oughta Know" and Third Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life."
The latter makes me think of my seventh grade boyfriend, because he loved that song and I remember vividly him jumping up and down at one of our school dances to the "Doo doo doo"s.
He's gay now.
A bientot! Happy Gal Pal Weekend! Thanks for reading!