Last night before work I made cookies and a White Russian. There are two times when I feel most like an adult– when I check my mail before going into my apartment and I’m carrying bills, keys, and bags and I’m pooped from my day, I totally feel like a grown up. And when I can put together snacks and booze and call it a meal, I feel like an adult (and I would pronounce it with the hard “a”– aa-dult as opposed to uh-dult).
When I stopped at Bogie’s Liquor Store on Melrose to get supplies, the little old guy who works there was adorable and his toothless smile was wide and he poked out from behind the counter to help me find a mini bottle of Kahlua and he was older than water and he said “Thank you, sweetie, so honest” when I told him not to forget to charge me for the vodka, too, and I was leaving he yelled out “See you next week!” even though I’d never seen him before, but it was like he knew I drink too much and would be back next week. Which of course I do and I will. Adorable and psychic.