I think I’m forgetting something…

It’s the Friday before a long weekend.  I, like many other hard-working members of society, made an executive decision to work from home today.  It seemed like the perfect plan.  I woke up early, took the pup for a walk, had a cup of coffee and chatted with my roommate for a bit, and then sat down to do a little work. 

But I had this weird feeling.  I’m forgetting something.  I went through the list of things I do in the morning.  Shower?  Check.  Brushed my teeth?  Check.  Fed the dog?  Check.  No matter how hard I thought, for the life of me I could not figure out what I was forgetting.

It was at 8:43 a.m. when my memory returned.  Slowly I started to think about how hungry I was.  I began rummaging through the fridge and cabinets in the kitchen.  Then the following thoughts struck me in succession.

1) If I had gone into work today, there would be breakfast because every Friday someone brings in breakfast for the office. . .

2) I wonder who is bringing breakfast today. . .

3) *@#%*&@$#(!@)(^!&*(@!!!

That’s right.  By 8:45 a.m. I finished my time/how much do I have to carry analysis and decided I needed a car.  By 8:52 a.m. I threw on torn up jeans and the t-shirt I wore last night.  By 8:57 a.m. I had the carshare reserved.  By 9:02 a.m. I was out the door and off to the grocery store.  By 9:33 a.m. my office had an assortment of pastries and fruit to choose from for their morning sustenance.

To relay this back to a New York versus Los Angeles debate, I wish we had more bodegas within walking distance of my apartment and cabs within hailing distance to take me to my office when I’m carrying a crazy load of food and a jug of milk.  All that aside, I say 45 minutes between realizing my memory is bad to walking into the office door with an armload of goodies, though I was a bit disheveled, is not so bad.


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