Today was a day just like any other – and I don’t want to forget it. Some days are pretty freaking great (even in, or especially in, their simplicity).

7:22: Wake up, turn on the shower, fall back asleep until the water heats up (it takes a while)
7:45: Shower
8:15: Check the weather, get ready
8:45: Skip out the door: purse, tube pass, keys, vaseline lip balm, hair tie, iPhone, headphones.
8:48: Walk through the door of my favorite local coffee shop. The 4’10” man behind the counter knows me by name and begins making my regular order. I am not lying when I say it is hands-down the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. I will most certainly miss it. No one has ever worn a smile larger than Jum’s – he is the smiliest Cambodian you’ll ever meet and he makes me smile, too, as we make small talk waiting on the coffee. I ask about his wife who sometimes works with him in the shop; he asks about Grant and school. I grab my order (which I get half price because I’m a local) and head out the door cherishing that first sip of the world’s greatest coffee.
8:50: Start an Andy Stanley podcast – awesome start to the day.
8:55: Scan my student pass Oyster Card through the gate at the Underground and wait on a train

9:22: Emerge two stops later, cross the street toward the church building that is now a night club; walk the block to my building
9:30: Begin my work placement, which I absolutely love. Seriously. Very few people love what they do as much as I love working in a publishing house.
5:30: Bounce out the door of Hodder and Stoughton, iPhone bumping again
5:59: Get off the tube, stop by local grocery store to pick up a few things (either Waitrose or Sainsbury’s). Call ahead and order a calzone from our favorite little Italian place, Oregano’s.
6:17: Stop in as they pull my calzone out of the brick oven on a wooden plank. They also know me and Grant by name.

6:29: Fish for my keys – the pink Master’s key chain that Rick and Janice gave me before we left “so you’ll have a little piece of home over there;” I use it every single day and cherish that feeling of home. Time my entrance with the motion-activated-and-timed light on the stoop. Push the door open so that it automatically hits the overhead-light switch just inside the outer door. Yell hello to our neighbor, Genti. Let myself into our flat, throw everything down and de-layer at the door – hat, scarf, coat, purse, bags, shoes. Deep breath. I’m home.

These are the little conveniences – knowing just how long it’ll talk in between things, weaving my day together perfectly because I now feel like a local, taking advantage of getting discounts and being a regular {insert: “Where everybody knows your name” here}. Seriously, though, it makes a difference. And on simple, uncomplicated days when this little routine works like a charm, life seems almost easy. And I don’t want to forget what days like these are really like.