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Issue 11. TITS OFF

Susannah Alfred- Some days are just…

I set my alarm for 6:30am and snooze it twice, so by the time I realize I can’t bargain with my hair to look better or smell better and I really do need to get in the shower, I’m already running late. Now that I’ve left no time to blow dry my hair, I make peace with the fact that the ends sticking out from under my hat are going to freeze on my way to the T. 

 

I pack up some clothes to send back to Rent the Runway and hop on my bike, at this point unsure of the time, and just keeping my fingers crossed that the train delays aren’t any more significant than usual.

 

I’m at work by 8:05 bouncing from room to room to greet the other early morning staff, grab a coffee, and set-up for a presentation. To my surprise and slight dismay, people are more engaged than I expect for a morning event after a long weekend. I let the chatter hum around me while I shoot off a couple last texts before I gather everyone to take their seats and pick up the slide clicker. 

 

The next couple of hours breeze by as I cram for deadlines and snag some almond butter toast for breakfast before running out for therapy a few blocks down. When my therapist tells me that it seems like I create chaos in my life, I shrug. She tells me I need to find a more neutral hobby that will give me an adrenaline rush, maybe something like rock climbing. 

 

I head back to the office for an afternoon of meetings, comparing results to Buzzfeed’s “Which Bon Appetit Test Kitchen Chef Are You?” (no quiz needed, I’m a Gaby), and catching up with a friend before heading to yoga. I’m in a downward dog, concentrating on how the waistband of my yoga pants keeps flipping over, when the teacher says “I don’t really know what I’m doing, I just make it up as I go,” which, relatable, but also doesn’t encourage me to take this class again. 


As soon as I’m home, I walk straight to the fridge for leftover pasta and asparagus—both of which I eat cold because I have zero faith in reheated leftovers to taste anywhere near as good as they were the first time so we might as well enjoy them in their new, older colder state. I changed into pj’s (and no I didn’t shower after yoga because showering this morning was enough of an ordeal and it wasn’t hot yoga thankyouverymuch) before grabbing a bottle of seltzer and making a large mug of ginger tea. I’m on a quest to hydrate but also refuse to drink plain water so here we are. I settle in to finish the book I’ve been reading for a couple of weeks, scroll  through Instagram, and ask myself if 8:45p is too early to go to bed. Decidedly, it is not.

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