Look what I found at the grocery store today:
Clementines! My favorite thing ever!! Well, maybe not ever, but they are up there on the list of what makes me happy. And, in fact, there is such a list in the making. For the past two days, I've been trying to make a list of 100 things that I love. It actually isn't as easy as it sounds; I'm only up to #52 (reading trashy* magazines in the tub. Which is cheating, in a way, because "reading" and "long hot baths" were already on the list.)
So now I'm wondering if it is just a hard thing to do, finding 100 things in this world to love (I'm leaving people out of it!), or if I am defective in some way. I'm hoping it's just proof that I'm not very materialistic. It might be residue from NYC and having my life shaken up so much that I actually don't really know what I love anymore. Or, I might just be a ridiculous human being with hours of commuting time to fill.
*defined as People and UsWeekly, for the most part.