something's gotta give

No one tells you that life means you're going to have to pay for toilet paper. I'm not complaining, mind you. It's just an observation. That's one thing no one prepares you for. When you're a kid, there's always toilet paper in the house. Mom? Dad? Paper elves? It really doesn't matter. Whenever you need it, it's there. sometimes you have to scoot from the toilet bowl to the closet underneath the sink with your pants around your ankles, but toilet paper is always waiting for you when you open the door.

Of course, as you get older and you move out, you become you're own paper elf. It doesn't magically appear any more. Again, I'm not complaining, but it's just an observation. Maybe it should be a part of the curriculum in schools. I think that would better prepare students for life in the real world than algebra, but that's just my opinion. Honestly, since I've been living on my own, I haven't found myself in a situation where I needed toilet paper, but didn't have any--well, just once, but I was able to creatively handle the situation.

I'll get off this subject. I don't know why that sounded like a good place to start, but that's just what's been going on in my head. We got the Internet back in the office today, and the mood lightened almost instantaneously. It was a rough haul there for a while, since we've got three publications that are supposed to go to print in the next four days (that looks even worse when I read it), but at least things feel like they're back to normal at work, even if the next few days are going to be even rougher.

Today there were some bright spots (besides the return of the Internet). I had a really good cup of Chai tea at a coffee shop. I hardly ever go to coffee shops for philosophical reasons (I don't drink coffee), but I have a quiet obsession with Chai tea. I think it's the nutmeg. It's kinda like egg nog that you can drink year-round, and I love egg nog. I also had the gnarliest burrito ever, and I mean that in a good way. This thing was humongous and spicey and packed with meat. It had to be at least, like, seven pounds or something. The carne asada was mouthwatering. I got so stuffed halfway through the thing that I thought I was going to die, but I kept going anyway, as if each bite would bring me closer to discovering a universal truth, but all it did was make me feel like I'd just devoured an entire cow dipped in salsa. It was wonderful. Tonight, as I sat and listened to CDs and played game after game of solitare (with actual cards! not on the computer), I achieved a personal triumph when I actually won a game. It wasn't the first time, but satisfying nonetheless. I left the four stacks of each suit in neat trim piles and gloated about my victory silently to myself.

I'm becoming more and more boring by the day.