cocoa/winter/banjo/peanut butter

Woke up to someone's half-drunk hot cocoa peering at me from under my coffee table. Was displeased. Yes, that’s right—there's a hot/cold vending machine in my building, which dispenses hot cocoas at the exact temperature one would like hot cocoa to be. Jealousy's a disease.

Leaving work, I let out a great exhale and upon seeing that exhale in the air before me, I was let in on the news that winter is, in fact here. And I'm still without a proper coat.

I go through a great struggle each night as I leave work—to Sunny or not to Sunny. You see, this very convenient and well-stocked 24 hour grocer is just steps away from my building and if I'm lucky I'll find a lovely pumpkin salad. The trouble lies with the Christmas music—I'm relatively sure they loop exactly three Christmas songs—and the fact that I find myself humming one of these three choice Christmas songs when I return to my apartment. I feel it's worth mentioning that one of these songs is a banjo rendition of "O Come All Ye Faithful." And if that sounds cool, it's not.

Even the packaging is more polite here. The wrapper of my little peanut butter sandwich puffs (do not recommend) says, “This snack contains peanut butter made from peanuts of good quality. You can enjoy it as is or after toasting it light.” Why thank you!