A little less coffee, there.

Wheat toast spread with butter and raspberry curd. A mug from the Association house 'waved for a couple minutes on high, then dosed with two heaping tablespoons of Coffee Crack, also known as International Foods coffee stuff, this time in French Vanilla Cafe. Very satisfying, especially when followed by a slow cold chaser of a purple plastic tumbler filled with filtered water.

The media player keeps picking Beatles tunes this morning. The window shade, looking slightly crooked even though hung straight, now covers the office window. Garbage is bagged and ready to be taken out. I think I will finally manage to get the laundry at least partially done today, although I should just suck it up and do it all. It's just, the laundromat, you know? I am feeling so much love for this apartment that I desperately wish I had a washer and dryer, so that I could leisurely do small loads in the evenings, keep up on the pairs of socks and the comforters, I could have my own goddamn folding table, and I won't need to compete for a rickety wheely laundry cart.

Quarters? Ha! I would be able to sneer at heavy pockets drooping with precious quarters.

Ah, now George Harrison.