Before this week, I had probably not eaten an omelet in a year. Suddenly, everyone's competing to make me the most fucking delicious omelet in the world.
Not that I'm complaining, but all of a sudden omelets have become a thing. I had a particularly fancy one earlier today. There were sauteed tomatoes on the side, it was a fucking serious omelet, and it made me think a lot about a way I could choose to go, eating fancy omelets and feeling a certain way I forgot I could feel, a particular kind of honesty I haven't allowed myself to indulge in since high school, since I began planning. If I can be totally weird with you, the omelet put me in this kind of intoxicating state of mind, a place where I could say whatever I wanted with no repercussions, something I've never really allowed myself to do. But while I was eating it, I kept thinking about this particularly endearing one I had a week ago today. I've gotta be honest, it looked super shady- it was more like a bacon burrito thing and the kid who made it filled holes in the egg with cheese. It was enormous, I couldn't even finish it. If I'm gonna be straight up though, it was probably the best omelet I've ever had.
I can't tell what but something about my apartment feels different from yesterday.