That time I was the office slut

I looked like a whore on my first day of work.
I really didn’t mean to. But my clothes that would classify as business casual were all somewhere en route from DC to Chicago, and I was left with slim pickings. I was also in a massive rush because I, along with 50-70% of the female population (maybe it’s lower but this false statistic makes me feel better about myself), am constantly running at least 4 minutes late. I was obvs nervous to arrive to work late on my first day, so I threw this blue thing that I bought last summer:

Yikes.

I swear, I remember it being at least three inches longer. I walked downstairs and my mother told me it was too short. I knew this already. I cannot stand it when she tells me things I already know. I forgot this about living at home: the nagging. I can just pretend it doesn’t exist at school, but here we share a living structure and it’s simply unescapable. Thank you Maureen, thank you.
By the way, this is Maureen doing Zumba. She birthed me. She really drives me mad but I love her dearly and we are basically the same person, much as I hate to admit she is me in 36 years. I say 36 because that’s how old she was when she and Gary (The Father) had me. He was 42. Yes, they’re ancient. No, I don’t have siblings. Apparently they tried (ew), but nothing ever worked out. People tell me I’m normal for an only child, I tell them they don’t know me well enough.
I must have looked like I was about to hypervenilate (I’m prone to getting hysterical when it’s not really necessary) because she told me I looked fine, and off I went. Work was nice. It’ll be awks if they somehow find this so I’m hesitant to talk much about it, but I’ll say this: I’m interning for a charity, working mainly with development/event planning. I don’t work every day. It’s not really a real job but I like the office so far and it seems like it’ll be a good experience. Plus I get to dress up and work in a cubicle and pretend like I’m living a grand businesswoman life. Like I said, it’s nice.
After work I went to Kirby’s house. This is Kirby:
She’s actually loads more attractive than that but this just makes me chuckle. She has a first name that no one really calls her by and she’s my best friend at home. Two of our other friends were over there, they were all making grand plans to go into the city that night. I was angry and bitter because I wanted to but could not. I was a working woman: I had to be at work at 8:30 sharp. If I was a normal college student maybe I would go, but the thought of getting home at 4AM and then waking up at 7AM literally makes me want to vomit. I’m one of those annoying people who really values sleep and can’t function on anything less than 7.
So, I went home for dinner with my little family. Maureen made her favorite salmon and I roasted some broccoli and rolled my eyes as Gary sat there and preached about Obama’s inadequacey and The Road To Serfdom. This is a book he is obsessed with. Gary gets very compulsive about things, I’m like him in this way. It’s annoying to be around, I apologize to all my friends. Then, I screwed around online for a bit, packed my lunch for today, and went to bed early.
It’s a wild life I lead!
Today I woke up at 6 to get a run in before work. I absolutely adore running in the mornings. If I get enough sleep the night before, there’s really nothing better. At school I’d run in the mornings on days that I couldn’t make Running Club, but that’d be like 8, 9:00, because I was lazy and my classes didn’t start until 11. But there’s such a big difference running at 6:15. The world is still asleep. I’m still asleep for the first mile or so. And then, the runner’s high kicks in. I ran with Kirby yesterday morning (the doll, she had nothing to do because she is currently unemployed. She’s deserting me for the summer and being a counselor at her hippie camp in Colorado starting May 31st. Luckily she returns just in time for my birthday in the middle of August. But she still awoke at the crack of dawn, now that’s impressive) but alone today. And it was just one of those runs (I’ve been having a lot of these lately, perhaps due to the fact that Chicago is flat as a pancake and I don’t have to deal with DC hills) where I was so unbelievably happy the whole time. I only had time for 4.5 miles but it was really all I needed.
When I got home I got started on my oatmeal. I don’t plan on making this a food blog. I’m a huge foodie but just don’t want to deal with documenting every morsel I eat and taking pictures of everything, it’d get real old real fast for me. But I just must show my nonexistent follower population this grand bowl of oats:
  
I’m really sad about this ugly picture. Guess that’s what you get when you take iPhone photos of photogenic things like oatmeal. Please not the sarcasm. Please. Anyway. It’s nice being home so that I can make stovetop oats – they’re so much more fun to make, and totes fluff up more than when I would do this in my common room’s microwave at school. Delicious. Extra plus with the egg whites – this is one of my favorite post-run breakfasts to eat because of the carbs/protein combo. It’s 11:00 AM at work, I ate at 7, and my stomach still hasn’t started to grumble. Pretty impressive if you ask me.
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