A Love Letter

A Love Letter

Dear Summer in New York,

I’ve missed you. It’s honestly been hell without you, which is ironic (w.c.?) since most people consider heat to be hellish–fire and brimstone and all that. But heat gets a bad rap. People always say they’d rather be cold, they’d rather be freezing, but there’s nothing better than feeling your bare skin sizzle. And you’re the only one who gets it. So you can understand, then, why I’ve missed you.

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1. 2. 3. 4.

I love lists. Like Oprah-loving-bread levels of love. Playlists, to-do lists, favorites lists: if there’s a way to list, I list. And it usually has nothing to do with productivity (I mean, I have a grocery list on my phone that I never once glance at once I’m in the store). But for some reason, listing itself is fun. In other news, I’m a total nerd.

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So yesterday I turned 25. A lot of people thought it was Friday because that’s when my friends threw me a surprise party. A lot of people thought it was Saturday because I wore a birthday sash and made people sing to me. But Facebook let almost everyone know it was Sunday. Which probably means absolutely everyone is sick of hearing about it.  #sorrynotsorry

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Candyland: Utah Edition

Candyland: Utah Edition

This story starts as many do: I was thinking about food. It was a Friday afternoon, work was slow, and I was thinking about what I could sneak into our weekly office order from Fresh Direct. It’s a grocery delivery service that we get sometimes. Because an employee’s happiness is in direct correlation with their proximity to food. Ask Google.

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