Oh, Go Jot Yourself!
Sorry, I should never let my uterus speak for me.
At least I’m not pregnant. Or, you know, a man. *shudder*
Tuesday wasn’t bad.
After coffee at home, I had coffee at work. We have one of those wretched K things at work, and no surprise, it displeases me. Somehow the coffee comes out twice as acidic, half as rich, and extremely bitter. I dunno. No likey the thing. I discussed this with a friend over the weekend, and she not only told me what K coffees I like to drink at her house, but also gave me additional labels to sample.
I especially liked the Starbucks French Roast. Course, it’s not decaf, so just the one cup. I drank all five samples today. “No coffee, no workee.” I bought my mother a mug with that on it when I was a teenager. I looked — I couldn’t find that particular Boynton mug on Google, but I found this one for Ally Bean.
At work, I drink my coffee and tea from a mug Big Boss Lady crafted with her own two hands. It’s quite nice. I keep thinking I’ll find a mug I want to take to work, because that seems like something I should do, cept it’ll have to be better than that mug. Hand-thrown and glazed, muted earthy color, nice deep handle… She considers it a reject because it’s cracked. I revel in this imperfection, as I have many cracks myself. I have a low-key attachment to the mug. I have always been this picky about coffee mugs.
I also eat oatmeal at work in the morning. In a yellow bowl. It’s not handmade, but I have an affection for it, because, well, it’s lello.
My coworker eats oatmeal every morning, too. Like my husband, he really only likes the brown kind. I like it too, but I like the red one as well, so I eat red so he can eat more brown. Do y’all have that? I mean, I know what the flavors are, but my family likes the brown oatmeal and the brown Pop-Tarts and the green cereal bars. *shrugs*
My husband also eats oatmeal at work every morning. Do any of you?
The Mister works for a huge multi-billion dollar corporation, so they don’t buy his oatmeal. I work at one of ‘five-locations’ and Big Boss Lady buys our oatmeal. Go figure.
I went out for lunch and the sun was out. I liked it. It felt meaningful. The cold wind has been cruel lately, and that warm sun on my face was a pleasant contrast. I ate homophobic chicken and a cup of coconut yogurt and raisins.
Later, I left work on time. I don’t know if you leave your work on time, but I bout never do. I arrive early and leave late. I have one of those dreadful work ethics people go on about. I hate leaving things unfinished and it seems the people who call right before closing are the sort of people who have stories to tell. Sometimes this elicits paperwork. But not this Tuesday!
I drove home IN THE DAYLIGHT and without incident.
Moo baked potatoes. My parents were civil engineers and we ate a lot of potatoes in the winter. Bakers. It stuck. I’m not sure there are baked potatoes big enough to not make me want to eat more of them, so I guess it’s good they’re filling.
Sassy, injured ankle and all, fell asleep on me after dinner.
Plenty of good things for a Tuesday.
None of them as good as slipping back into sleep with The Mister, another Tuesday put to bed.
This post concludes my Just Jot It January for 2018 — Thank you so much for joining me, and thank you to LindaGHill for hosting.
Let’s get over this hump and into doors and kittens, shall we?