I left the office yesterday around 5:45, when the winter sun had already long ducked out of view for the evening. The city has been pretty fiercely cold the past few days, with a wind chill that adds a little extra bite to the air. My first move after bidding my darling coworkers goodbye was to stop at the FedEx Office down the street to pick up my new bedroom decor, courtesy of Tristan Prettyman and her badass blog (which I will most likely reference here many more times in the future); Ghandi's Top Ten Fundamentals
After picking up my new treasure (which is hanging on the wall next to my bed and is thus the first thing I see when I wake up) my thought process went something like this...
Ah, shit...I forgot to make change for the bus. (gotta have exact change on those suckers) Should I buy something really fast? Arrgh, but there's absolutely nothing I want or need from these Chinatown vendors...(no offense Chinatown street vendors)...
Oh F*ck it. I'll walk home.
And then I started walking. My apartment is only about 1.7 miles from work, but with the darkness, the cold and the token SF hills it's not something I've ever considered doing before. I dug into my bag to pull out my ipod and was gratefully surprised to find my gloves (I never carry around my gloves). Hm, that's kinda awesome. My fingers are freezing...
About halfway home I was drawn to a random cafe in Northbeach...for no particular reason. I'd already passed about 15 other (much more attractive) cafes but felt compelled to enter only this one. (My hokie side will go ahead and chalk it up to the Universe having the perfect timing, so long as you're open to it). F*ck it, I'm going in. I walked up to the counter just as a fresh tray of warm, giant chocolate chip cookies were being pulled out of the oven. Yep, I'll be having one of those, thank you. Oh. Damn, they only take cash. (I never have cash). Then I remembered the $5 bill I found in my coat pocket that morning. Winner! "With a glass of your house red, too, please?", I ordered. A perfect $4.50 (hello, happy hour) later I found an empty table and settled in.
So I sat in this little cafe, drinking my wine and savoring the warm cookie. The decor was delightfully quirky and mismatched; a painting of a ballerina, a painting of a watermelon. Old French posters. A giant photograph of a Great White shark. Buena Vista Social Club was playing on the stereo; and what could be more oddly sexy than Cuban music playing in an Italian Cafe?
I didn't replay any events of the week. I didn't make any plans for the weekend. I didn't go over my never ending mental to-do list for the 100th time today. I didn't figure anything out. I didn't take out my book or my planner or my cell phone. I just sat and quietly enjoyed my own company for half an hour.
Walking home from the cafe I watched my breath in the cold January sea air as I kept the traditional quick DiGaetano pace (had to learn to keep up with my long legged Dad early on). And when I got to the base of the Bay Street hill...sparked by Florence and the Machine's "Dog Days Are Over" coming on my ipod (and no, I'm not making this up)...I got the sudden urge to skip. F*ck it. I dance/skipped my way up the entire hill. And then I paused at the top to catch my breath, which was fairly difficult to do considering I was giggling so hard at myself.
When I docked my Fitbit after entering my apartment I was greeted by my days total...7,777 steps. Well isn't that just kind of perfect :)
Saying f*ck it was lovely. It was lovely and simple and perfectly unplanned.
It was just for me.
(and now a little for you...)