dear cupcakes, thank you for allowing me to bake you tonight. your vegan pumpkin chocolate chip and cinnamon frosting goodness is a literal and figurative mouthful. thank you for being the irony at the end of my post-gym endorphin rush. yes, i bake after i go to the gym. don’t hate, appreciate.
dear andrew bird, can i marry you and your vocabulary and your diction? or would we have to go to utah and have a polygamous marriage for such a thing? because i would totally be down with that. as i’d very much like you to use words like “nomenclature” and “ergo” in our conversations. it makes me swoon a bit.
dear anthropologie, thank you for your candles that were conveniently on clearance over the weekend. even though they caused my fire alarm to go off last night, it made me feel super hard core when i got to “put out the fire”, all while making my room smell like “prom linen”. which, to me, is an excellent trade-off.
other honorable mentions include: my dog burrowing his cold, happy nose underneath my knee cap, refusing to let me leave him after i got home from work. the gym elliptical tvs, for knowing that i love to secretly watch “teen mom” whilst getting my workout on. whoever is reading this, i nothing short of adore you.
and most importantly, my hot date with my bath tub and a little guy named johnny panic *
*note, once again, a fictional boy. who do you think i am? ha! going on dates with non-fictional males, come on now…
currently listening to: ‘send me on my way’//rusted root