Weekend mornings

When I was a teenager, you could find me sleeping in 'til noon on weekends, much to my dad's chagrin: "Denise, GET OUT OF BED!" I was a night owl, a vampire for sure. (In fact, obsessed with Anne Rice's vampire chronicles back then.)

And now? I'm up before the sun. Who am I?! Is this what adult life is like? Also, why do I hashtag my actions with #adulting when I'm clearly an adult? I'm not a millennial. I wonder if I'll always suffer a little from Impostor Syndrome.

I digress.

Part of why I'm up early is because my apartment has east- and south-facing windows, so the morning light will force me up if I'm not already awake. But an eye mask has solved that problem (I think I mentioned this before), and I can sleep in until 8:30 or 9am on weekends and it. is. glorious.

As soon as the apartment starts to get light, I automactially-semi-consciously grab my eye mask and slap it over my face and all is well (and dark) again.

Teeanger-me would have laughed to think that 8:30am is sleeping in. She also would have laughed at me falling asleep by 11pm on a Friday night.

When I wake up, my first thoughts are about coffee. Mmmmm... coffeeeeee. The elixir of life. I like it like my heart: strong, black, slightly bitter. There is never a moment that I wish I had a partner as in the morning because one of my favorite moments in life is getting served coffee in bed. I can hardly recall the last time that has happened. It might have been in a hotel with shitty hotel-coffee (but even shitty instant coffee can be charming in the right setting).

Don't get me wrong. I love making coffee. It may be the only daily ritual I embrace. There's something comforting about the process (I'm a pour-over gal): the water in the gooseneck kettle, grinding the beans, weighing everything out, enjoying the bubbly-poofyness of the bloom, the slow stream of water and the resulting coffee that drips out the cone. All of that. Mmm.

And that first sip? Heaven in my mouth as it makes its way down my throat to warm and energize my [non-existent] soul.

With my coffee made, I hop back in bed. I rest my cup on a simple tray from ikea. I pop open my old Macbook Pro that amazingly still runs relatively strong after 7 years (and the only way I can play dvds or the even more obscure cd). Time to interwebz!

And being an adult. What sites do I go to? All my banking and investing sites. Saturday mornings are finance days! Banking! 401K! HSA investing! Check out Zillow! Open more CDs! Track my credit card spending! It goes on and on.

I know what you're thinking: Denise, you're the epitome of excitement!

You can see why people are banging on my door to date me. Sleeping before midnight. Banking first thing on a Saturday. (Knitting.) The list goes on and on of my exhilarating qualities.

I usually have a financial goal to learn about smarter ways to bank, invest, all that fun money stuff. Last year I learned about laddering CDs. Last week I opened up a new savings account (1.5% APY, baby!). Today I managed my HSA investments.

I think about my move-to-NY-dream/plan/goal and took one of those online calculators that figure out how much more expensive it would be to live in New York compared to your current location. Turns out for me that it's estimated to be 3% cheaper to live in NY than SF.



I'm not sure how I feel about that. Is this depressing or promising? If NYC is cheaper to live than where I am now... Jesus, I'm living in a ridiculously expensive town.

I think it's time to switch away from morning banking to afternoon crafting.

[I realize that the Women's March is today, which makes me think back to last year's march in New York – super uplifting and empowering! But today, Yoshi is sick/nauseous, so I'll be staying home with her, but we'll be marching in spirit.]