I’m thinking from now on I won’t even specify what kind of tostada I want with the lunch special and just let the waiter bring me what makes the best sense. Today it wasn’t chicken, but it was pretty good. S. got eggs. I coughed all over everything, and then S. walked me halfway to the post office so I could pick up my new running socks and fleece jacket even though I should have been at home resting. I’m in love with all of it.

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