Buckle in, mofo’s. Because this introvert is about to blow you away with my plans for a wild-ass Friday night.
While you’re out hittin’ up “da clurb,” I’ll be in a “clurb” of my own: My lit AF apartment. It’s quiet as hell. So much thumping silence. The perfect conditions for getting super crunk on the latest book I’m reading as I sip on some chamomile tea.
And I’m just getting started…
After about an hour or so, I’m gonna take things up a notch: I’ll turn on some music and hit the kitchen. There’s this apple-cinnamon oatmeal recipe I’ve been wanting to make all week, and now I’m gonna make it. It’s gonna get so hot in herr, what with the stove and skillet emitting heat as the water comes to a rolling boil.
The music I’m playing from my bluetooth speakers — some jazz—is just what I need to tear sh*t up. And by “tear sh*t up,” I mean patiently chop the apples for the oatmeal.
Now I know what you’re thinking: There’s NO WAY this introvert’s night could get any wilder.
But oh, just wait.
Because now I’ll hit the floor to show off my moves. By that, I mean I’ll literally sit on the floor, cross-legged, and open the Headspace app on my phone. It’s time for a little meditation. Some self-reflection after a long week.
Damn, that was intense.
I’m not so sure I can top that. By now, it’s the wee hours of 10pm. I should probably head to bed.
But I get a sudden urge to take this night to another level of buck-wild.
I sit on the couch, along with my cat, and turn on “The Great British Bake Off” on Netflix. I watch it by myself as I continue to unwind from a week full of meetings, work events, outings with friends, and just generally being “on” for others.
Eventually it gets to 11pm. Practically the crack of dawn. Time to call it a night.
Before I hit the sack, I text a friend (a fellow introvert) to confirm plans for the next day. It’s an even wilder plan… Meeting up to go to the farmer’s market.
