it appears that it is january already.
january, the monday of months.
the one with short days, no gift-giving holidays,
and so many reasons to feel guilty for not going to the gym.
all i want to do is hibernate with mumbles until april...
but i can't,
so instead i'll just look at this ridiculous picture of rob and me
from last spring at sammy's roumanian steak house,
listen to richard goode play brahms,
and bribe myself with a spoonful of speculoos to get out of bed.