My new Sigg water bottle.

Seltzer water. With lime.

The French Kicks. Even though I haven’t really listened to one of their albums in full yet, every time I hear a song I like, it seems to be by this band. It’s the beginning of my relationship with them, and I’m having a good time.

I decided to forgo my occasional stop at Starbucks on the way to the office the other day and went, instead, to this coffee place in Grand Central for my decaf latte, where the cashier told me that I looked “great, by the way,” and that he’d “always been a sucker for pregnant women.” Good move, my friend, because you’ve got a customer for life.

Ice cream. Obviously.

The prospect of sleeping in until like 4 or 5 p.m. this coming Saturday, the first Saturday in forever where we have nothing planned. I mean, let’s face it, I’m going to wake up at 7 a.m. no matter how hard I try to convince my body otherwise, but I’m sure I can find plenty of reasons to stay in bed. Like the really good mystery I’m reading. Or the fact that, you know, it feels AWESOME to lie around in bed.