I walked out of the house this morning, feeling pretty good despite the early hour. It's CES week my friends, which means there may be a grand total of 10 people in the department today. No bosses, no phone calls, faxes, favors, and no real dress code. I was looking forward to it, pleased with my white button down shirt/black pegged punker pants/patent mary janes kinda thing. However, my new years resolution to become more humble was in full effect as every girl who got on the bus was looking amazing-san francisco style. This whole city is practically a runway. A punker girl dressed sharp like saftey-pins with her white blonde hair and black matrix coat, a woman in witchy salem heels and a long red leather jacket, a girl who is obviously some rock stars wife talking about going on tour in her short red hair and cute black heels with bows. Everyone was on point, fer sure. I smiled to shake off the feelings of insecurity. What else are ya gonna do? At the very least, I live in a city where everyone looks like someone I would want to talk to.
When I get to work, I wander in still feeling buzzy from the morning hits I took before leaving. It's empty and I realize that despite my eagerness to have the office mostly to myself, it's still fucking work. It amuses me though, that I treat this place more like my home - I come in, vaguely high, with sunglasses on and earphones in, drop the paper near where it needs to go, unpack my shit and proceed to have breakfast while checking email. It's now 2pm. I haven't actually done anything yet that could be considered work. I get sleepy and take a nap, go to Whole Foods for lunch with the boyfriend, come back and blog-garble. 3 hours to go and I want another nap. Maybe I'll get through some work today and maybe I won't. Either way I've got to call Chatty after work so she can come over and I can help her dye her hair. I'm a little uncertain about this girl, but I'll give her the benefit. I just don't know if I can keep up with that kind of manic energy right now.
Le sigh. I'm gonna procrastinate by having myself one more illicit cigarette. Then I'll get to work. Yeah, right. That's the ticket. Wish me luck.