
It makes me feel very professional adult woman in Manhattan. Heaven knows that every Manhattanite woman's role model, Carrie Bradshaw, sat down for plenty of meals by herself. And that's exactly how I imagine the waiter thinking of me-- seeing me sitting here on my little netbook typing away with my soy cappuccino in the corner of my eye-- I am obviously a writer. With my my vintage-looking (but not) ring, my hair twisted into a braided french bun, my galoshes crossed under my Anthro dress. I think partly why I feel so at ease with eating my meal sola is because I'm so well put together today. It may be different if I felt like I'd just washed up in my tee-shirt, jeans, converse. Not to mention my usual day-off outfit consisting of sweaty work-out clothes.
Sigh. This is NYC in the winter for you. I can't go sit in the Park and eat my food, I have to tuck myself indoors, at the mercy of these lovely waiters. The first of December. I'm not sure either how that is supposed to make me feel, nor how it actually does make me feel. I reserve my 'holiday spirit' for work, and in the face of my currently breathtakingly overwhelming life, I focus on taking one task, project, emotion, day at a time. So the fact that it's December doesn't quite make an impact on how today is going.
If I did let myself think about it for a moment, I might think about how it's the first day of the last month of this eventful year, and consider how that would make me feel. I might think about how nervous I am heading into the winter season-- I don't do well without sunlight on my skin, and growing things within arm's reach.
What I do think about is ALL THE STUFF I have to do in the next two months and how I better stop writing this blog so I can get back to that. On this, my day off. That's life. At least if I'm working on my day off I can do so in a delicious, charming, cozy vegan cafe.
Welcome back, I've missed you. You are so la-di-da! (and I say that in my Fancy Nancy voice; it's a compliment).
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