I woke up this morning feeling that something exciting is going to happen. Like that moment where you just made a wrong turn, when you’re trying to get back to the interstate, right before you spot a figurative oasis just as your stomach starts growling at you. Yes. Awesome things on the horizon.
My roommates (family, yes, but roommates is the situation of it) are all amicable and things are going smoothly. Work? Doing pretty damn good if you ignore thale people who don’t do their jobs and the wonky scheduling. Men? Well, maybe.
Options everywhere, like browsing the produce section. But you’re hungry for something in particular; you just dont know what it is, yet. Then something catches your eye. Oranges, in this case, I think. You know that citrus smell is intoxicating, but you’re not fooled. If you pick one too sour, it just won’t be satisfying.
So, you’ve picked one, and purcased, and sit in your car with the grocery bag open on your lap to catch the rind and pith. And you hope, briefly, that you didn’t waste 49¢; then dig your thumbnail into the thick outer layer.