Han Friday

Han Friday

Wordless mostly, but events of the past week and a half has added my list of universal truths. Namely, no coffee tastes better than fresh-brewed Dunkin Donuts cinnamon spice coffee, when working from home; country air is oxygen for the soul; some people can park and shrink their garage to fit;  owning a cafetiere is the dividing line between being older adolescent and actual grown up and the friends and family I have, that celebrated my birthday with me over ribs and beers and gave me orange mugs with Eiffel tower feet (to go with my fake tan, the buggers) and pink roses because they know I’m fussy about red and were okay with me inhaling three freshly-baked Guinness chocolate cupcakes in 45 seconds flat, are really the coolest lot in the whole world.

Oh, and one more: if you include enough pictures of cupcakes and flowers and chandeliers in a single blog post (not shown: me manhandling an animal’s ribcage, for obvious reasons, or tripping and falling so explosively in the record shop, the bloke already in there quietly browsing the prog rock section almost died of fright), you can convince people you’re 16, and undo all that ‘I turned 24!’ nonsense of last week. Revitalift blogging: you heard it here first.

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