Full Tin Anchovy Pasta, Depression at The Market and A Celery Cocktail
I’ve lived above a fancy grocery store for the last three years. The people who work in that store have seen me in literally every stage of life, morning to night, happiness to sorrow. Indulgent, excited, in love, and injured from it. Bored, tired, stoned, fired up, post bike rides and super hot after hot yoga. They’ve seen freshly showered hair, little black date dresses, braless and drowning from the deepest moments of depression, through to some of the happiest, highest moments of my life. From the sociopath who moved in next door to me, my brother visiting, to the seattle freeze, failed dates and a few wins (..that pilot was a fun time and I did fall truly in love that other time), moving a business, then closing it (arguably, the most significant life change). All the while, everyone commenting on how much they love my bags, me politely saying thank you, trying not to cry. Unknowingly, they watched me live through a three year rollercoaster.