January 29


Today was a bad day for two reasons. First of all, when I was on cafeteria duty with the eighth graders I somehow got ketchup all over my butt. Don’t ask me how. Maybe someone stepped on a packet on the floor and it squirted up. Maybe I backed into a ketchup covered object. Maybe the ketchup was subtly placed on my butt by a malicious 13 year old. The world will never know.

Regardless,  I didn’t realize I was covered in ketchup until my assistant principal walked by and pointed it out. I cannot decide what the worst repercussion of this incident was. Was it the fact that 300 8th graders witnessed my boss dabbing my ass with a paper towel trying to remove ketchup that I could not see because my booty is just that big? If not that, then it was definitely trying to teach about elements and compounds while my immature middle schoolers screamed period jokes at me every time I turned around to write on the board.

“Miss, miss, is it yo period? You gonna have a baby now miss??” (My middle schoolers do not really understand how periods work.)

I was explaining to Roomie how now I am an adult and therefore capable of handling these incidents (most of the time). I cannot imagine how traumatizing this event would be if it had happened to me when I was actually in middle school.

The other thing that happened today was I accidentally butt-texted Sam on the Snapchat app. Do not ask me how this is possible, for I do not know. My butt was having a busy day.

The worst part is, it being Snapchat and all, I do not even know what my butt said to Sam in this text. He just responded and was all “I think you butt-texted me, haha, how are you?” Turmoil. I flipped out and just responded, “Oops, the new Snapchat update is weird! Sorry!” and did not respond anymore after that. I think the fact that I cannot even handle seeing his name on my phone screen is a pretty good indicator that I am not ready to attempt to engage in normal conversation.

This is all I got. THANKS TO MY BUTT.

This is all I got. THANKS TO MY BUTT.

Anyway. I am attempting to rally because I have another OkCupid date tonight. I used to think online dating was weird and impersonal until I moved to this godforsaken city and discovered that almost everybody under the age of 30 does it these days. Out of my four closest friends who are in relationships, three of them met their significant others online. It’s just statistics. You increase the size of the pool of potential boyfriends when you online date. Anyway, these are all the things I tell myself when I am trying to convince myself I am not weird for having an OkCupid account.

I am just not feeling very winning and charming tonight though. My stomach is upset and I have hat hair, but I will trudge out into what’s left of the snow in search of my one true love. I’ll let you know what this one’s fatal flaw is.

The only thing motivating me is this guy cannot possibly be worse than Snakespeare. I seriously doubt there is a weirder guy in all five boroughs.


Was backing up admiring how good my hair looks in my full length mirror when I tripped over one of The Cat’s five fifty dollar scratching posts.  I forgot I put it in the middle of my room and covered it in catnip…my gorgeous expensive blue rug is the item of the week for clawing and shredding. The Cat has an appetite for destruction.

Fell on my butt like some comical representation of how people actually fall with arms flailing and an audible thump. Will likely have bruise the size of Brazil on my thigh for the weekend.


Well. I have returned. I had a really nice time, actually. We went to a cool place and had beers and listened to a band. He was very sweet.  There was a fatal flaw, though, everybody. And it was that he had a “philosophy” for everything. “My philosophy about drummers is that…” “I think when it comes to cars a good philosophy is…” I’m no philosopher. I took one class of it in college because I had to and that was more than enough for me. Why does anyone sit around and philosophize about anything anyway? I don’t know. I really have nothing to complain about with this dude other than his philosophies, which isn’t that bad to be quite honest. He’ll text me tomorrow. He wants to take me to dinner. We’ll see.

I’m beginning to think that the fatal flaw for all these guys is that they are not Sam. And that’s a fatal flaw that seven billion people have. There’s no fixing that.

Even though he was always indifferent to me, even though he slept with other girls for most of the time he was with me, even though I tried so hard to just be enough for him, I was never enough. But still, when I’m out and I’m dressed all nicely and wearing my new Mac lipstick, all I want is sweatpants on his couch. And I just don’t understand this about myself.

I always looked at people in bad relationships and wondered why they didn’t just leave. He’s cheating on you, I would think, don’t you value yourself more than that? He told me from day one he didn’t want a relationship and he couldn’t be that for me. And he never was. So why didn’t I walk? I have no idea, honestly, and crying and wine night and therapy and four months hasn’t gotten me any closer to understanding. Maybe it’s because he challenges me more than anyone ever has. Maybe it’s because I think that when he tries he really understands me. Despite what a shitty person he is, he always felt like he completed me. Like he was my other half. Does this mean my half is shitty too?

I don’t know. I cried on the subway the whole way home.

In positive news, I was sitting on my futon feeling sad when all of a sudden The Cat comes up and scratches her expensive scratching post right in front of me for the first time ever. Please note the fact that she did not scratch my door frame or my expensive rug or my sofa… she scratched the post. This has never happened. The cardboard of the scratcher is pristine except for the two square inches she deigned to scratch this evening. I took a video and showered her with treats.

Sometimes animals just get what you need.

January 26


Blogging at you live from within the snowy grasp of Winter Storm Juno. Hey, when you’re The Weather Channel, every blizzard needs a good name.  I guess they don’t have that much to get excited about.

That’s one big beautiful snow day!

I still maintain that two feet of snow is not that much. However, I come from a state far snowier than this one. The main difference is my state’s infrastructure is ready and waiting for storms like this, so something as pesky as two little feet wouldn’t faze us. NYC, though, is freaking out. As is my school community. We have a snow day tomorrow, which they announced during the day today. This led to many of my fellow educators having a pissing contest over the size of their winter storm emergency kits while we waited to go home.

Now, call me crazy, but growing up I’d get snowed in for a week without all this stuff and somehow manage to cling to survival. This idea did not go over well in the teacher’s lounge. When they realized I did not have anything to contribute to their conversation about emergency generator strength and “one gallon per person per day” they all pounced on me in concern. They urged Roomie and I to assemble the following list of items on our way home from work… “trust us, you’ll be glad you did.”

  1. A gallon of clean drinking water per person per day
  2. Batteries
  3. Flashlights
  4. Three day supply of non-perishable foods
  5. First Aid Kits
  6. Blankets
  7. Rope
  8. Battery powered radio
  9. Whistle
  10. Are you bored yet?

Roomie and I realized our home was missing a few critical things and got to work. After one hour of texting back and forth about who was going where as she commuted from her school and I commuted from mine, we have assembled the following winter storm emergency kit which only varies slightly from the original.

  1. Glade Air-Freshening Candles in Honeydew Melon and Lilac scents (All our flashlights are at school from when we did Phases of the Moon with our students)
  2. Two large Burger King combo meals (Cheeseburger for me, chicken nuggets for her)
  3. Wine
  4. Toilet Paper
  5. Canned Soup (we did something right)
  6. Cat food
  7. Eggs
  8. Cheddar flavored Goldfish

We were already home when we realized we forgot the clean drinking water. Thankfully, we have two empty tequila bottles and a sink.


Did you know this type of snowstorm is called a Manitoba Mauler? Yes, it’s a much lesser known cousin of the Alberta Clipper and apparently there are people who devote their days to studying the difference between the two.  I am currently reading the Wikipedia page and learning all about how warm Pacific air travels over the mountains and becomes a big scary Chinook wind before getting “entangled with a cold air mass” above the Canadian prairie.

Am unsure about this map but it uses official sounding vocabulary.

Why are the Clippers an LA sports team? Canada dropped the puck on that one.

My mother (who I have not spoken to in weeks but is now the epitome of parental concern) was very excited to use the term “nor’easter” on the phone. I think she thinks it sounds cool. I hate to shut you down, Ma, but this one’s from Canada, eh?

January 24


Well THAT date was a disaster to the umpteenth degree. I am now in my bed semi-drunk and recovering while waiting for my frozen Trader Joe’s Tikka Masala to cook. Do I know how to live, or what?

We went to a bar where after 20 minutes of forced conversation I determined that my semi-concerned and freaked out opinions of this guy were right. After he invited me to his family’s cottage in Michigan (review: this was date number 2) I told him I only wanted to be friends. At this point he asked me to go to one more bar with him. I was too polite to refuse. We were just friends, after all.  He took me to a Speakeasy with fifteen dollar cocktails. I paid. Then, I had to run an errand to another bar to buy a t-shirt for a friend (long story) and he just kind of followed me there. He kept touching me and telling me how hot I looked even though “we’re just friends.” Finally, I got the hell out. I told him I was going home and I went to use the bathroom before saying goodbye. When I got back, I saw he had gone and bought another beer so that I would have to stay another five minutes (and he said this to me). He wanted to buy me one, but I said no, I really had to go, at which point he tried to kiss me and I just NOPE-D on out of the West Village.

Due to the amount of vodka I consumed to tolerate this date from hell with the psycho-clingy snake man, I texted my ex. No, not THAT ex (Sam). Another ex. Good for you, Allie.

Now aforementioned ex thinks I want “monkey business”(his words, NOT mine), The Cat is eating my brand new socks, and I have just spilled Tikka Masala red sauce (impossible to remove) all over my bed.

What the fuck ever, let’s watch Netflix.


These sheets are toast. I’m drinking milk with what’s left of my Indian food. Is that allowed? I’m somehow thinking that’s not allowed. The Cat is on the prowl for some Tikka but I think it will upset her already delicate digestive tract. Watching The One Where Eddie Won’t Leave (one of my favorite Friends episodes ever).

These are the updates from Brooklyn.


I awakened at 7:05am to my cat prodding my face with her paw, wanting breakfast. I stumbled out of bed to go feed her and when I got back I saw on my phone that I had FIVE texts from Snake Man.

We got a Snakespeare over here.

We got a Snakespeare over here.

Please excuse my hungover hasty blurring out of sensitive information. That aside, just reading it makes me uncomfortable. Does anybody have any idea what he’s even talking about?

This is only three of the five texts, mind you. I don’t swear a lot, but what the actual fuck. Is this guy going to come kill me in my sleep, or what?

Roomie was also up and prowling around because of our internal teacher alarm clocks. She came and laid in bed with me and we discussed. We think he will probably text me again when he wakes up in a while. Or — god forbid — another phone call. I probably won’t answer. Do I even have to pretend to be nice to this guy anymore? I’m all sorts of done with this entire situation and really creeped out. RIP, Snakespeare, and I really do hope you find a girl someday who can match your… intensity?

At least we found his OKC flaw. Now that I know my theory is still in tact we can be at peace.

Snow in Brooklyn which means my chances of going to the gym are less than zero. I am trying to make myself get excited about eating only Greek yogurt for breakfast but I can’t. I just want bacon and not to be fat for Miami.


Went shopping with Roomie despite the snow. Roomie continues to torment me with a drunk voicemail I left her three months ago in which I am home alone and laying on my rug pretending to be The Cat. Am now exhausted from my five hours of consciousness and am preparing to nap.

Nothing from Snakespeare, thank the lord and all his baby angels.

January 23


Well I am going on a second date with this guy. The one from Monday. Some interesting developments have taken place on that front.

  1. This gentleman has a pet snake that lives in his apartment. He informed me that the snake sometimes likes to break out of her cage and roam his living room. Snakes are my single worst fear in the universe. The snake’s name is Zia and it is one of those snakes to which that rhyme applies… you know. What is it? Red next to yellow is a friendly fellow and the other one kills you. I am not sure on which side of this divide Zia the Snake falls.

    So what do you think, is it gonna eat me or what?

    So what do you think, is it gonna eat me or what?

  2. This gentleman had a total freakout on Wednesday where he told me that he liked me a lot and wanted me to be more than a rebound girl to him and said “I know you like me and are fighting it, but I know you can trust me and I will be here waiting for that to happen.” Excuse me, what, we had two glasses of wine.
  3. He invited me to his apartment (in Harlem) to eat dinner with him and his snake and I was like “Maybe just drinks in the Village for now.”

Anywho. You are probably wondering why I am even going to get a beer with him after all of this and the answer to that question is he is really kind and seems to really like me, and the first date was fun, whatever happened since. Everybody gets a second try. If I don’t have fun tonight I’ll nicely end it.

The main adventure in my life today happened after school. I had to run to the Dept. of Education building and while I was over there I decided I needed Chipotle to reward myself for going to the gym for 40 minutes two days ago. There was a lady outside asking people for money and I didn’t have any cash, so I offered to buy her lunch. She came into the restaurant with me and we stood in line. She starts to tell me about her five friends who were also very hungry and wanted lunch. I nicely said that teachers don’t make very much money, and that I would buy her whatever she wanted but couldn’t afford to buy lunch for everyone.

She got the biggest burrito bowl I have ever seen, chips and guac, a tortilla on the side, and a drink. I didn’t mind at all, I’m sure she was very hungry and I was glad to do it. However, after I paid, she went back up to the cashier and started harassing her for more bags of chips. The manager came out and told the woman she had to leave, and she started yelling and making a scene. I walked her out but she was not happy… it made me wish I had just given her the money, but maybe the food was better.

Anyway. Friday. Must go do makeup for date #2. The bar that my date has picked is a (very) gay bar and I don’t think he knows. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest, I go there sometimes and always have fun, but should be interesting to watch him process this information.


Ah, crap. Roomie returned from pharmacy and I accidentally said “yeah” when she said “hi” and I guess the line was really long at the pharmacy and they messed up her insurance and she was telling me this and I was distracted by my blog post. I really cannot do two things at once. How do people multitask?


Must never tell any friends or family or snake-owning dates URL for blog in case they ever make me mad and I want to write about them.

What’s URL stand for, anyway?


Was supposed to have left five minutes ago and am somehow still in my pajama pants reading people’s blogs. Oh, bother.


If I wear yoga pants and boots will he be able to tell? But, like, NICE yoga pants.

I can’t tell if I am gaining weight, losing weight, or just changing shape from all this Miami yo-yo dieting but for some reason all my jeans are sliding off my butt when I sit down and I look like I crawled out of a Mississippi trailer park.

January 20



Roomie and I were cooking dinner and preparing to drink wine and watch the Bachelor when all of a sudden someone starts ringing our doorbell incessantly. This happens sometimes when you live in the hood, so we were ignoring it. Finally, we got annoyed and I went down to check.

It was Roomie’s ex-boyfriend, back from his two-month vacation and looking to reconcile.

This guy dated Trish for 7 months, told her he loved her, but somehow never texted her back within a timely manner and consistently stood her up. Roomie was finally getting better after he just up and left for the Caribbean around Thanksgiving. She was finally seeming happy again. And now he is here.

I hate this. She constantly, constantly ditches me when he’s around. I can think of a dozen times where we have been out and either he has shown up or she just sneaks off and gets in a cab and leaves me to go see him. Or the time right after Sam and I broke up where she left me alone at her friend’s apartment on Halloween. It’s selfish of me to say all of this. I should be a good friend and be happy for her but I’m just not. I was enjoying not being the only single one.

I guess you’ll probably be wanting to know how my date was last night. It was fine, he was really nice. Only dealbreaking flaw was he just broke up with his ex-girlfriend three weeks ago and kept talking about her. And he reminded me of my first boyfriend. Like, a lot. I’m not sure I want that again. He’s really into me, though. We’ll see how it goes.

I’m just not over Sam. I’m not. And he treated me like absolute shit. He never once acted like he was into me or wanted to be with me, it always seemed like he was just tolerating me which made me try even harder. I did everything for him. I loved him, I really did. I just keep hoping that he’ll show up at my door and say he made a mistake and that he wants me back but I know that he never will. I shouldn’t even want that. I should be trying with everything I have to move on.

I think I’m just having a really depressed day. It’s all piling up. I didn’t go to work, which was horrible, I just said I was sick so that I could stay in bed. My grandpa fell and broke his back and is back in the hospital. Nobody has any idea where my mother is. Now, Roomie’s boyfriend is back. It’s just all too much right now.

January 19


Have not blogged all weekend because was hanging out at Roomie’s family’s house on Long Island. This basically always means that her father buys me lots of delicious Italian food and I spend two days watching TV, getting fat, and playing with her black labs. Puppy therapy is definitely a thing. Their neighbors just got a little three month old black lab puppy, and it is impossible to be angry, stressed, or sad when you have a face this cute looking up at you.

I know, right???

I know, right???

The only downside of all this is it made me homesick for my own little black lab who lives out west with my dad. The 4 acres is great for her, but I wish I could have her here with me. It really is impossible to have a dog in the city when you have a job. I cannot afford a doggy nanny, so I wound up with The Cat when my depression prompted me to buy something warm and fluffy. If only she liked to cuddle and didn’t hate everyone I would be set!

Speaking of The Cat, I finally bought her a laser pointer. What they say about cats and laser pointers is turning out to be very true. She has gone ballistic. She is a slave to the little red light. As soon as she sees it she forgets everything else. I have devious plans to use it to train her to scratch one of her four scratching posts instead of my door frame, but I am not anticipating much success.

I am leaving here in fifteen minutes for a date with that boy I talked to on the phone the other day. He of the Pokemon and the “I don’t really look like my picture” comments. I am not sure how to feel about this, but I think at least it’s good that I am moving on from Sam. Or trying to, rather. Maybe I’m jaded, but I’m making bets with Roomie on what his OkCupid flaw will be (for those of you just joining me, Roomie and I have a theory that every single male on online dating has one flaw that they do not advertise on their profile that makes them inherently undateable, and it’s anyone’s guess what it will be).

I think I know what it might be, though. I think it’s this (actual texts):

This does not bode well.

I mean, hooray for fitness, but come on. It’s the playoffs. That Packers/Seahawks game was insane.

Not to mention, I’m one of those people who cannot touch her own toes, so I always have to use the special people block when I go to yoga. And then I fall over. This is why I do not do yoga.


January 15


Have just returned from gym. Yes, that’s right, I have gone every day this week. The only hiccup today was when I forgot my gym locker combination, despite opening it successfully 12 times already this week. FYI, it’s 4-6-26, NOT 6-4-26. People kept staring at me as I tried to open my lock 8 times and grew increasingly frustrated. Today was just one of those days.

On my way home, I was struck with the desire to cook. Now, if you’ve been keeping up, you will know that I cannot even hard boil eggs without catastrophe. Nevertheless, I have bought a lot of different kind of vegetables and will be shortly be attempting to create something palatable.



Was in the kitchen singing along to the Wicked soundtrack and happily stewing vegetables in a pot when Roomie poked her head in and asked what I was making. Well, you don’t just tell your Roomie you are making up your own recipe when she knows how disaster-prone you are. Our smoke detector is currently sitting next to the microwave sans batteries because I have set it off so many times we had to disable it. That is not a joke, that is actually true. It seems counter-intuitive, like maybe if I am that bad of a chef we should keep the smoke detector on. However. It’s very very annoying and persistent and there’s nothing in our apartment worth saving anyway. Bring on the fires!

Anyway, I informed my Roomie that I was making “Vegetable Pot a la Mode.” I added the a la mode to sound fancy. Of course I know it means with ice cream. I’m fluent in French. I can eat ice cream after, can’t I?

I think I overdid it on the onions and also Roomie suggested that next time I cut the garlic a little smaller. I should mention that the garlic in Vegetable Pot a la Mode was in grape-sized chunks. I was worried that if I minced it I would cut my fingers.  Anyway, the only actual casualty of this adventure was when I dropped a fork behind the stove. I don’t think it is coming out. A small price to pay for my healthy onion and noodle pot. Ever since I got a good look at the girls on the new season of the Bachelor, I have been obsessed with having thighs like a baby giraffe.

For your viewing pleasure I present Vegetable Pot, my first cooking attempt of the New Year

For your viewing pleasure I present Vegetable Pot, my first cooking attempt of the New Year

Also, I forgot to tell you. The guy from the other night finally called. 10:32pm. What does he think I am, some sort of scarlet woman?

It was alright, though, because it transpired that he was babysitting his 7 year old nephew and had only just gotten him to bed. We had a really nice conversation and he seemed too good to be true. If I tell you we talked about our favorite Pokemon, does that make me nerdy?

Right when we were wrapping up, he said “I have two things I have to warn you about.” And here I am in my bed drinking tea thinking, oh, my goodness, this guy is a killer. But no. The things were…

  1. He just got out of a long term relationship, but I told him that was alright because I had too
  2. He said he hadn’t updated his profile picture in a while and looked totally different.

Now, that bit about looking totally different is a scary thing in the online dating world, but he sent me a more recent picture of himself and he still looks cute. He has a nice smile and cute scruffy hair, but you can definitely tell he’s gained a lot of weight since his profile pictures were taken. Not that it matters. Or maybe he hasn’t gained weight and I am just looking for something to freak out about. Okay, he’s probably gained a little weight. Or not. It’s a picture of him from the elbows up, it’s not like I have anything tangible to go off of here.

Anyway, we’ve been texting and we are all fixed to get a drink on Monday. He’s nice enough that I know I’ll have fun even if I don’t end up being attracted to him.

Tomorrow’s Friday and thank goodness for that because I’m totally wiped out and it’s a three day weekend. Cheers to you Marty.

January 13


Did you know that if you get hot pepper in your eye the best remedy is milk?

These are things we are finding out in our apartment tonight.

I was sitting on my bed eating some corn after the gym (two days in a row! I know!) when all of a sudden Roomie starts howling in pain from the kitchen. She’s as terrible as a cook as me, which makes me think she has amputated her hand or similar. Rushed to her aid and she is hysterically screaming and crying because I guess she got juice from a hot pepper in her eye and the whole side of her face was on fire. This kind of pepper was the super super hot variety, evidently, a few million Scoville units past anything I could handle. I danced around for a few minutes because I didn’t know how to help her so finally I went to Google remedies.

Five minutes later she was laying on the floor of our living room while I poured whole milk into her eye and The Cat judged us from a corner.

It’s no wonder we’re single to be quite honest.


Firing up the egg cooker again. Karlie Kloss probably eats egg whites all the time. A dozen a day. No nachos tonight. I already brushed my teeth to avoid temptation of eating anything else but it will probably not work if I had to guess.

Waiting to speak to a promising OkCupid boy, who has asked if he can call me (which my friends think is odd and not in line with standard protocol). We started texting last night and he seems very sweet — he described his teenage sister as “beautiful and complex” and asked lots of nice questions to me. From extensive internet stalking (oh, right, they can see when you look at their LinkedIn) I have deduced that he is considerably taller than me and has a nice smile. I’m coming around to the idea of a phone call because I will be able to tell if he has an effeminate voice or not without having to put on makeup and go sit in a dive bar for two hours.

It is 8:30. Obviously I have other fabulous plans, I am not simply sitting in my apartment tonight awaiting phone calls from mysterious strangers. Also, it doesn’t do to call after 9, I learned this in manners school. Tick tock my dear.


January 12


Bumming around in my jams waiting for the Ohio State-Oregon game to start. My next door neighbor growing up is now a fairly well known football player for Oregon, and he was able to get my family really good seats. They’re all in Dallas cheering for him and Ohio State (Grandpa was a buckeye). I am heading up the NYC branch of our strange dual-loyalty fan club.

This weekend was good but also not. I hung out with the Roomies of Sam. I got to be really good friends with them when I was dating Sam, but now it’s like even when I hang out with just them he’s there, like a ghost. He’s still at the very edges of my life. I cannot separate them from him. I wish I could. I drunk texted him saying I wished I could.  As a result of all of this I felt really miserable after a fun evening with friends.

I drunk texted all my exes that night, to be quite honest. The only one who responded was the one who owns his own helicopter so I suppose it could be worse.

I have now been to the gym twice since January 1st. Today I went to find that my Pilates teacher of last summer has been replaced by a pair of scarily athletic Russians who screamed at me for being weak. Only one month and two days until I have to look hot in a bikini and here I am eating my way through a box of Russell Stover my student got me for Christmas.

In other news, I am currently messaging two cute guys on OkCupid, but am nervous to meet up with them due to aforementioned “everyone on OkCupid has some dealbreaking flaw that is not immediately apparent from internet conversation” thing. The memory of Miley Cyrus Voice, Eyes-Too-Close-Together, and The Shorty is too fresh. We’ll see. I imagine I’ll crack and meet up with one or both this week. I’m bored. I’m thinking one might be slightly effeminate in person, but the other one has real potential.

These are the updates from Brooklyn.



Ate a filling, healthy meal of salmon and brown rice for dinner at approximately 6:00 pm (after the gym). Was feeling healthy and righteous and at peace with the world. Thought perhaps would only have fortifying mug of green tea between dinner and bedtime. Night eating is for the weak.

Was not satisfied, so just made and ate a colossal plate of nachos.

Karlie Kloss does not eat nachos. Taylor Swift does not eat nachos. Jennifer Lawrence pretends to eat nachos but does not actually eat nachos.


January 10


It is freezing in the Big Apple and I have no heat. This means that I have been laying in my bed wrapped like a burrito in all of my blankets unable to move. This has led to a lot of unintentional naps on this snowy Saturday. Basically, I…

11:00am: Woke up, thankfully not too hungover from my friend’s birthday party last night

12:00pm: Mustered the energy to go outside with Roomie to find some breakfast

12:15pm: Returned to my bed. So cold in my apartment I had no other options. My plan was to get up and go to the gym at 1, but somehow…

12:30pm-2:30pm: Unintentional nap.

I wasn’t even tired! I just texted my landlord again to complain about the fact that we have radiators which are not functioning. I don’t think the one in my room has ever worked, but maybe he can turn up the one in the bathroom and the one in Roomie’s room and the heat will somehow reach me. The Cat is shivering in her bed and I want to go shower but I’m worried my hair will freeze solid when I get out of the shower.

Naturally, I could not be expected to gather myself and go to the gym. I’ll go every day next week. Probably.