Pink Rose To The Rescue
Well, the “Thesis Hives” are clearing up at last, now that the rough draft is in; no, seriously, I broke out in hives I was so stressed this weekend. But it got done, as I knew it would, and now on to CompLit. It’s a little daunting that it’s due so soon, but whatever, I’ve got to get on with it. The end of school is frighteningly close, but I’m not in the mood to think about it right now.
Today, I took some completely frivolous time for myself, went to the gym to clear out my head and take a break from reading, and then went off to glassblowing as soon as class was over. That went pretty badly, which was so completely frustrating because up until about halfway through it was perfect. I mean, perfect. Oh well, shit happens.
I was in a pretty shitty mood after that, and decided that a slice of barbecue chicken from SoHo was in order. Back to the studio to clean up my stuff, and then, feeling super-indulgent, further south to Pink Rose. White chocolate raspberry cheesecake called to me longingly from the display case, so I gave in. As the girl at the counter rang me up, guessing correctly from my sweatshirt and jeans that I wasn’t there to loiter, she asked me if I went to Haverford. It’s always surprising when people identify with the Reds. She asked me if I liked it, and it took me a second to respond. I believe my answer was something like “eh, yeah…it’s good to get out into the city sometimes.” My wry grin was matched with an equally knowing smile, and that made my night. She wished me luck, and I gave her a tip, spreading happiness everywhere. Sort of.
If I were feeling a little more altruistic and hadn’t just spent $80 on glass color, I would have picked up a slice for my slightly in need of cheesecake roommate and one more for the boy, in celebration of 5 months (scary! I know, time flies), but alas my credit card is feeling the weight of my aesthetic addiction. I’m a horrible selfish person, I know…but damn that cheesecake was good.
So now I’m back, I’m tired, and I’ve got to read some more Woolf (that, surprisingly, I am enjoying). That’s the scoop on me.