Before I moved to Cali, I had a short conversation with a woman who was renting a room in her condo. She said the kitchen was off limits with the exception of the microwave; people can be really creative with microwave cooking she said. She also said that she basically didn’t have time to cook either so she had yogurt for dinner.
From the Midwest I guffawed and scoffed. I cooked and baked… and with skill.
Today I eat yogurt for most meals. If I am adventurous I add blueberries and granola. Sometimes I make smoothies. Basically I turned into the joke.
I prefer the collar hours of the day… that is to say, my early mornings and late evenings. The quiet captured during these hours is perfection and allows my brain to unwind and wrap itself around whatever thought, query or object of my desire may exist — and that’s so, so comforting.
Don’t pout and whisper under your breath after I give you your drink that there’s no art in your foam.
Who the fuck am I? Banksy? I make $8 an hour, fuck you and your stupid ass foam hearts.”
I am in my twenties and I work at a coffee shop. I make a billion lattes a day. I also eavesdrop and…
I love this. So much. Dying at my desk.