Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Four
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This week’s schedule is a little off.
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I slide the foundation onto my face. I haven’t worn make-up in 100-and-something days. It feels very unnecessary and yet, what is the protocol these days? You know what? Nothing is ever going to be the same. I can let this go.
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Where is the time going?
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This one looks particularly old. I think, just like a human being, the snails show their age. The older, bigger ones have darkers shells and their bodies are darker, more opaque.
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Cold coffee. I keep drinking it.
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Kale caesar.
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The ceilings are tall and the walls are a rough wood panelling and I didn’t think I would like it, but I absolutely love it. A tree house. The treehouse. But maybe it’s not quite right for the children.
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The smell of rosemary on a gentle breeze.
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This one thing could be the deal-breaker.
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There is still so much to learn. And that is what’s so exciting.
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What can I do? I can cook. I prep slowly. Because sometimes dinner is just going to be at 7:30 no matter how hard you try to keep your routine. The slow chopping, the flipping of the bacon, the shredding of the cheese—all of this grounds me.
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I lean my head against the glass, feel the tiny bumps on my shoulders that keep spreading down to my elbows. Stress? Diet? A combination of both?
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I don’t want to break the streak.