You know you don't have anything to talk about when you talk about getting omelets at an on-campus cafeteria. "Its like a tradition now," said the painfully boring freshman. "I bet you get the good one and I get the bad lady this time," said his mind-numbingly dull freshmen friend.
Look. I'm a lover of the small things. I am. Bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils, watching dvd marathons of tv shows, orangeade, when a Muppet goes "ooh," the family portrait episode of Raymond, a text from a friend, mom's broccoli and rice casserole, a good packet, frozen mochachinos, listening to music while driving, laughing til I want to vomit, writing in my journal, Stewie and the tuba, making food for others, not acting my age, open windows and pumpkin candles in the fall, Slappy the Squirrel, a good pen, a good cup, a good hair day, a Christmas cactus, Black Friday shopping, Black Friday yelling and pushing, booing someone out loud, a good hug, beef jerky, the Olympics, reality television, my planner, changing clothing styles, my phone, a good grade in grammar, Britney, hanging out with my fam, seeing a show, standing in the rain, scaring Lisa, tackling my roommate just cuz, Sharpee pens, a clean apartment, cleaning the apartment, watching a movie alone, watching You've Got Mail, which brings me back to bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils.
See, its the little things.
Add writing this to the list.