I found a note I'd written on the way home from work last June. June 10, 2014, if we're dealing with precision here. It was titled
Musings on a Tuesday, and it contained nothing much of importance.
I wrote about the new shoes I ordered online being too big, as they always are. About how I wanted to have more developed and informed political convictions; about the Native American man strumming his guitar in the metro station; about the route I had worn into the escalator from the daily commuting routine.
And, as far as I'm concerned, that's a summary of June.
// discovering my new favorite cookie shop on M street
// Georgetown is always a stunner.
June was Sundays at the Smithsonians, like the Freer Gallery. MAJOR SWOON.
June was massive Asian karaoke meet ups, crepes before work, and Old Town Alexandria. JUNE WAS FRIENDS, people. Don't you just want friends in June?
June: food edition.
//Indian spice during guys' night
// 2a.m. Ben + Jerry's slash OJ runs
// eating fried rice out of a pineapple, because JUNE!
// bonus: store bought sushi because being recently graduated is #glam
Because June is when I realized I could fall in love with a city.
And that that may be just as important as loving a person. More so! Cities never hurt your feelings. Well, only sometimes. Like when the Red line takes 92098 hours or you can't find a public bathroom.
World cup and roller coasters and the most bleached hair. Also, Austrian embassy event.
June was so June-y last year.
