most mornings this summer i've spent watching other people have good mornings, as they decisively or indesicively choose a pastry, better when it's raining and cool, and there's only a couple relaxed people who read in silence, which usually ends quickly with stampedes of mothers and crankies.
but there are moments.

good night

This morning my landlord woke me up to inform me that someone was going to patch up the hole in my ceiling, finally. I realized later that a smooth ceiling only traps the stench of smoke even more, which is why I'm on the deck at 12:45 AM trying to read and write and enjoy myself. Freezing to death. "No smoking in the house, we have carpet." Worst invention by far.

After an hour of trying to sleep on the couch--evicted from my own room--I biked to the Ethiopian cafe before work. My coffee was in a ceramic mug. I had breakfast. There's nothing nicer, despite the fact that I had work 11 AM and I didn't have time to finish my egg, cheese and bacon sandwich. I can't have everything the way I want it, anymore.