Southie, 1:44 pm
Rainy, cold outside.
Inside, heat on.
Cats curled on the couch blankets.
WERS 88.9 SRO on the radio.
Second mug of (Peets French Roast, homemade, French press) coffee down the hatch.
Daily duties (laundry, closet-cleaning, floor-scrubbing, yoga-performing, 6-mile-running) list mapped out in head but not on paper, so nothing's not technically not been accomplished yet.
So I know I need to get out of the pajamas and get a move on.
I will. In a few moments.
It occurs to me, on some level, how grateful I am for my apartment having been broken into a couple Sundays ago.
Otherwise I wouldn't have had to replace my laptop with this pretty Mac Book Pro, the price of which inspired me to (previously unthinkably) sacrifice my Dunkin' Donuts addiction for 365 days (which includes 52 Saturday mornings), which in turn means that enjoying the caffeine jitters I've imposed on myself thusfar would have meant changing out of my pajamas earlier than 1:44 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon that truly deserves this exact degree of laziness.