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at 4 am I’m to put my gloves and sweater back on and go out for a fag with a piping hot cup of freshly pressed coffee

at 5 am I’m to take a shower and get dressed for my busy day

at 6 am I’m to walk to Starbucks with my book in hand, treat myself to my last northwest Pumpkin Spice Latte for a week, and mentally prepare myself for a while. (and make a bigger dent in The Picture of Dorian Gray which I’m reading for the first time and adoring.)

at 9 am I’m to walk down the block to Wells Fargo and deposit my trip money into my empty bank account (32 cents, to be more precise)

at 9:15 I’m to walk to the nearest bus stop and catch the bus to the nearest mall (which I detest). there, I’ll return this loose-fitting pair of jeans and maybe pick up a pair of combat boots if I’m feeling generous to myself.

at 11 am or so, I’m to catch the bus back home and start to get shit done

at noon, after allowing myself some personal time to get my shit together after an all-nighter like this, I’ll begin to sort through my clothes and decide which I want to pack and which need to be washed.

at 12:30 I’m to start laundry and collect all of the other things I need to pack (his gift, makeup, toiletries, books, shoes, etc)

at 1, I’m to fill my purse with all of the little things that are better placed in there

at 1:20, I’m to sit down and spend some time updating my currently incredibly sparse iPod so I can entertain myself during airport wait time and through my flight.

at 2, I’m to fold clothes, pack them perfectly, and assure myself that I’ve gotten everything I need.

after that, I’m to collapse in an exhausted heap on my bed and sleep until I need to get up tomorrow morning and prepare my physical being for my trip. shaving for the first time in a month, doing my makeup all pretty, and all of the other things I do for him, even though I needn’t do any of them.

sounds like a full day. I’m anxious for it to get started. I’m bored and afraid I’ll fall asleep just sitting here.