67/90, 2 hours

I don't often tell a story here without a heavy hand of reflection. My nonfiction courses dealt a lot with the composition of a work–what we make full-blown scene vs. scene summary, and how we create importance through reflection. Today, every moment felt vital, important, alive.

So for once, I'm not going to stress out, complain, boast or otherwise tilt my hand toward an emotion. This is an honest, exacting look at my past two hours. I'll spoil the happy ending... It ends with the beginning of this post. That is to say, with me realizing I was incredibly happy, there what a breeze flowing into my room, my cold coffee is delicious and my yogurt honey peanut protein bar is a wonderful dessert-for-dinner fix.

So I got out of class early today. I came home, put water on to boil and onions on to saute, brought my clean laundry into my room and ate fistfuls of Gorgonzola flavored crackers. I didn't feel the slightest bit bad about it. I've eaten pretty well today, and I gorged on those puppies. I didn't have beer. So there.

I decided that today was the day: time to pick up the wedding bands that have been in for a little over a week and replenish the produce drawer. I haven't done any real grocery shopping since Joe was here (two weeks ago).

I hopped in my car and drove out to Zales while Yoshimi battled the Pink Robots. I walked through the bookstore and into the mall–I didn't even pause to consider buying a $3 Bargain Bin book!

When I entered Zales, the women who helped us pick out our wedding bands was working. "Isn't she pretty?" she said to her coworker, "I love her voice." I share this because it's humorous. I mean, listen to me talk. Really? Whatever.

Her coworker thoroughly evaluated me. "What's the date?" she said, her eyes still measuring me. I told her, and explained our long-distance situation. "You look like you're twelve! I can't believe it." I thanked them and took myself to buy some alcohol, to remind myself that I was indeed old enough to be a real person.

Walking into Aldi, I successfully passed the Fit & Active snack everythings, the chips, the salsa, the nuts, the cookies. Ok, not the cookies. They have those little French cookies... the bistro ones, with the shortbread on the bottom and the milk chocolate on top (dark chocolate in my case). They also have pictures of the Eiffel Tower, a windmill, a bridge. You name it. They're a cultural experience.

I tossed them in with my Winking Owl Chardonnay. (Hello, four evenings of happy dinners sitting in my front yard.) I made it through the produce aisle without any splurges, grabbed dishwasher detergent and made it to the check-out unscathed. And then I saw the protein bars for "sustained energy and balance." Can't argue with that. So I got one, so there!

On the way home, the Cranberries were playing, and I thought of how much I miss the 90s. I remembered the day sitting on the swings when I told my friends how much I loved Eddie Vedder and all that he stood for. Even the flannel. I realized then that I was different. That not all girls liked baseball or listening to their best-friend-and-uncle's alternative music collection while watching him play Cliffhanger and Mortal Combat.

I remembered how we ran to those swings. How we would skip finishing our chicken nuggets in order to get to recess on time to score a seat on the limited swing collection. I remembered the year there were no more teeter-totters. I remembered the day that I saw the teeter-totters across the street from Joe's first apartment.

I realized that I was really happy. There were leaves on the trees. I was driving with my windows down. I was thinking about Joe. 116 days.