Shitters. We (why the hell am I saying we, this operation is clearly just me typing alone in my bedroom) took Memorial Day as an invitation to take my sweeeeet time with rec no. three, but I am back and better than ever before I was last week? …what can I say, it’s rough out there. HOWEVER, some mornings make me feel slightly less dejected about the state of the world/my life, and I owe it all to some shit I bought at a grocery store, so don’t ever let anyone tell you money can’t buy you happiness because that is some faux enlightened shit said by someone who is clearly not a young professional trying to make it and get paid and find love and be hot and get trash Republicans the fuck out of here in the year of our Lord 2019. Give me a moment to update my objective on LinkedIn. Anywho. Back to mornings. I am not quite a morning person, but I have always been a breakfast person. I love the foods—eggs! carbs! potatoes! (I know potatoes are a carb you narcs, just let me live). I love the time of day—when it’s bright but still kinda quiet, and it doesn’t seem chaotic enough yet to deny yourself a few minutes of ~me time~. I even love the coffee, despite the fact that I can’t tolerate caffeine and have been ordering decaf lattes—the most expensive, utterly useless form of bean water—since I had that realization approx eight years ago. But most of all, I absolutely fucking love pancakes.