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Thursday night the rain turned into snow. It snowed all night and then all day yesterday and into the night again. I estimate we have at least 8 inches. It is absurd.
I slept most of yesterday. I think I caught up on all the sleep I missed over the last nine years. It was amazing. I got up at ten and went back to bed at eleven and didn't wake up again until FIVE. I love break. I LOVE BREAK.
Today Shannon and I braved the crazy snowness and went shopping. I bought The Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier, which I've been dying to read for the last three years. I'm super excited. Also, it's set in Ireland and today is St. Patrick's Day, so that works out well.
I went to the post office today and picked up both my monthly wine and also the yarn I ordered from Little Knits. The full bag of Debbie Bliss alpaca is here, along with some Classic Elite Provence and Kiddy Print. I'm happy.
The wine is great, too. The white says it goes well with apples and goat cheese, so I walked down to the silly little corner store that's open 24 hours and bought some apples and goat cheese.
I am spending my first legal St. Patrick's Day drinking white wine and eating apples and goat cheese while I knit and watch the sixth season of Gilmore Girls. I'm on my third (or is it fourth?) episode. This is sad.
Last year I stole a Guinness--my first Guinness--from the refridgerator of 158 Pryce St and poured it into my Safe n Sober grad night cup from high school graduation. Then I walked three blocks to meet some biochem friends in a Jack in the Box. I don't remember what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't actually interesting. At least I drank Guinness. Tonight I'm drinking Chardonnay (and I guess I should say that at least it's an amazing Chardonnay) from France. Ardeche. Isn't that a beautiful word? Ardeche? It makes me want to buy a cat and name her Ardeche.
I might make this a weekly thing; sit at home alone on Saturday night and think about things I regret and freak out a little bit. I'm actually doing much better this Saturday night than I was last Saturday night. I think I've convinced myself about that whole "time not being right" thing in addition to the whole "right time will come" thing, so I'm dealing. It's good. I just... wonder... you know... Maybe I'm not as wonderful as I think I am. Maybe he won't accept my thousand million apologies in five years, and maybe I really will turn into a crazy cat lady who knits and bakes funny-tasting cookies for the neighborhood kids. It's strange being here at Yale; maybe I'm just used to being at the top of the heap, but it's sort of unsettling that the few paltry crushes I've managed to form here have not been returned. I've been single for a year. I'm sure that's good for me, I think it's humbling, but it's also sort of terrifying.
Anyway. Enough tipsy rambling for now. I'm gonna go try to make stitch markers for my secret pal.
Also, it's snowing again.
I slept most of yesterday. I think I caught up on all the sleep I missed over the last nine years. It was amazing. I got up at ten and went back to bed at eleven and didn't wake up again until FIVE. I love break. I LOVE BREAK.
Today Shannon and I braved the crazy snowness and went shopping. I bought The Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier, which I've been dying to read for the last three years. I'm super excited. Also, it's set in Ireland and today is St. Patrick's Day, so that works out well.
I went to the post office today and picked up both my monthly wine and also the yarn I ordered from Little Knits. The full bag of Debbie Bliss alpaca is here, along with some Classic Elite Provence and Kiddy Print. I'm happy.
The wine is great, too. The white says it goes well with apples and goat cheese, so I walked down to the silly little corner store that's open 24 hours and bought some apples and goat cheese.
I am spending my first legal St. Patrick's Day drinking white wine and eating apples and goat cheese while I knit and watch the sixth season of Gilmore Girls. I'm on my third (or is it fourth?) episode. This is sad.
Last year I stole a Guinness--my first Guinness--from the refridgerator of 158 Pryce St and poured it into my Safe n Sober grad night cup from high school graduation. Then I walked three blocks to meet some biochem friends in a Jack in the Box. I don't remember what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't actually interesting. At least I drank Guinness. Tonight I'm drinking Chardonnay (and I guess I should say that at least it's an amazing Chardonnay) from France. Ardeche. Isn't that a beautiful word? Ardeche? It makes me want to buy a cat and name her Ardeche.
I might make this a weekly thing; sit at home alone on Saturday night and think about things I regret and freak out a little bit. I'm actually doing much better this Saturday night than I was last Saturday night. I think I've convinced myself about that whole "time not being right" thing in addition to the whole "right time will come" thing, so I'm dealing. It's good. I just... wonder... you know... Maybe I'm not as wonderful as I think I am. Maybe he won't accept my thousand million apologies in five years, and maybe I really will turn into a crazy cat lady who knits and bakes funny-tasting cookies for the neighborhood kids. It's strange being here at Yale; maybe I'm just used to being at the top of the heap, but it's sort of unsettling that the few paltry crushes I've managed to form here have not been returned. I've been single for a year. I'm sure that's good for me, I think it's humbling, but it's also sort of terrifying.
Anyway. Enough tipsy rambling for now. I'm gonna go try to make stitch markers for my secret pal.
Also, it's snowing again.
