Today was typical. I woke up early, which I despise. My boyfriend wakes up in the morning, EVERY MORNING, as if he was drinking espresso in his sleep; he starts his day off singing, kissing and laughing and, in my opinion, WAY too jubilant. I, however, prefer to snooze the alarm forty-five times, groan in response to every noise, and bury my head to avoid the increasing sunlight in the room. The dog and I are one in the same, we would enjoy sleeping all day long. BUT I had to go to work, so I eventually slumped (literally) out of bed with just enough time to throw on a decent outfit and make it to Starbucks before work.
I was still in a half-slumber, but I’m almost positive that my barista was replaced by an angel of some sort. She handed me my venti blonde roast with sugar free mocha like it was sent from above. Anyhow, I made it through the work day; the only thing that got me through it, other than the giant coffee, was knowing that I was meeting my boyfriend’s family for a PIZZA dinner.
Another new fact about me: I fucking love pizza. Like, if I was on death row and was about to get the fatal cocktail, I would be like “BRING ON THE PIZZA AND WINE!” I like a white pizza, personally, loaded with red pepper flakes and parmesan cheese.
So after way too many carbohydrates, I made it home and collapsed into bed. What do you know- Daisy, our 14 year old pomeranian, starting pawing at my face like she wanted something. I knew she wanted to explore outside. So… being the good mom that I am, I took her to the beach for some rock climbing, sea glass hunting good times.
Here’s a few adorable pictures from our adventure before I fall into a pizza coma: