us ones in between
April 16, 2009, 4:55 am
Filed under: gastronomy, nomadisms

This morning I elected to be a little late to the office. The dampness on the walk made me glad for tights.

The Spot had cinnamon buns today, unheard of. I thought I’d never get one there again due to running out of city weekends. They’re the most perfect kind because they make this caramel that contrasts well with a slightly crispy but not sweet dough. It coats without soaking. An ideal yeast quotient, too. It doesn’t seem like something you should be able to anticipate; it seems like something that should surprise you on a Wednesday morning.

Right now I have to pack bags. Literally.

[Three suitcases, one box of books and miscellany, a bag of kitchen items, a laundry bag full of linens and a small ironing board/iron/drying rack. There’s probably more but I haven’t found it and can’t think of it yet.]

I have moved everything I own at least thirteen times in six years. This is a badge of pride, probably one of the fictions used to supply identity where there’s been no actual character test, because I like to believe instead of acquiring things I elected to acquire people and places.

It’s also possible the clean breaks make development easier, logical shedding of whole skins and past lives (if you had us all in a room together I wonder what we’d talk about).

I’ve started to tell myself stability could be, in itself, an adventure; that the greatest experiences are likely things not really even imagined yet. We’ll see if it sticks.


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