10 ¢

I have a perpetual extra dime issue when I'm scrounging for change to hit up the vending machine for a diet coke. I think it's mostly bad math, but maybe there's a part of me that expects the worst. I am over prepared. Me?!
One evening when I was 18 my roommate and I made the two floor journey to the vending machines three times and it wasn't until the third that we had enough change. But that was because of a hole in a pocket the first time and slippery fingers the second.

I'm wading through sand at work today. I have been working! Working hard! But I feel like from the outside you wouldn't be able to tell. There's still so much left to finish! I am working as I type this (I swear!) and drinking diet coke and spinning the leftover dime. I AM WORKING. I am on page 57 of 66.
I should tell you that I was thanked on an acknowledgments page of a recently published master's thesis. By name! Me! Never mind the fact that I never actually personally helped the author. My coworkers did. Their names were listed, too.

I feel a little like an amputee. My best friend deleted her facebook account. Have I been talking to myself all these years?
Sometimes mass purging scares me. I knew someone once who would acquire acquire acquire for months and then would all of a sudden give it all away. Clothes, books, equipment. She'd be down to cardboard and empty hangers. Then she'd start all over.

I bet I could figure out which things I could live without.