Mulled

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On the couch, curled up with a soft grey blanket. Listening to Christmas tunes on the radio. Watching my guinea pigs munch on hay in the living room. I bring them out to run and they’re just lying there, chomping on hay. I guess I can’t blame them. They are my sweet little pigs.

I’ve been drinking mulled wine the past few days. Spiced wine. Big in Europe. Delicious at home, A year ago, Center Squad (my graduate school group of friends) all went to E’s house and drank mulled wine together. It was thick and spiced and strong. The room spun over 1 AM gossip, Even as I reflect on the day, I see a spinning room dotted with lights and light conversation.

So I looked up how to make the wine at home. Easy. Diluted it with cinnamon tea, tossed in star anise and orange slices–bam. Delicious, warm, bougie holiday in a slim glass. I skipped around, wine in hand, watched TV and drew on my iPad. A little hedonist, I think someone in my house said. Something of the sort. I do like to enjoy tiny luxuries…tactile things, cartoons, love, wine. Comfort.

I… got the job today! I didn’t imagine that it would be bittersweet, that I’d erupt into a strimply (stress pimple) mess. It’s been a mixture of excitement and light guilt. It’s not the practical part, it’s the person part. It’s not the position I’m attached to–it’s the people, the unsaid expectations. But I don’t want to reflect too much, lest I break out into another strimple.

Been off WordPress lately because I’ve been on this constant up and down grind. HAM mode. I’m gliding through some sort of engine. Then I retire when my mental capacity is exhausted… but grad school finals, coupled with the culmination of work projects, has turned up the heat. These next few weeks… I’ll just be on, off, on, off. 

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