90. HIMYM.

It’s been about an hour and a half since I launched into a rage over the series finale of How I Met Your Mother. Pillows (OK, 1) were thrown, people (OK, just friend Amy) were called, and my finger was burned as I attempted to cook my dinner in anger (not an exaggeration at all).

I am much calmer now, and I can safely say that I am not happy with how the show ended.

But.

This post was meant to be a tribute to Ted, a defense of him, really, and that is how it shall remain.

Warning now: SPOILERS ARE LIKELY AHEAD (I’m not going to put them into the post on purpose, but they’re probably going to end up there anyway).

89. Robyn.

Listening to Robyn makes everything better, but especially when the task at hand is laundry on a Sunday night and especially after a day of really crappy weather. Sidenote: The weather gods are just mocking the citizens of D.C. now.

88. Amélie

I know that Amélie came out more than 12 years ago, but I somehow managed not to watch it this entire time. The most exposure I ever got was from the soundtrack, which I would turn on in the morning sometimes to help me write (I came across one of the songs in a video, which turned me into a fan of Yann Tiersen).

I’ve often heard how much I would love the movie.

Well, you were all right. I’m full of feelings after watching it for the first time with roommate Kaitie.

It captures quirkiness and imagination and ingenuity and rolls it all up into this delightfully romantic package.

It also serves as an advertisement for Paris, where I absolutely must go on a trip to sometime soon, per friend Mackenzie’s insistence.

87. Divergent.

Just got home from watching the movie, and roommate Cassie had one question for me: “Hunger Games or Divergent?”

After I watched Hunger Games, my mind was BLOWN. I ended up seeing it in theaters again.

That won’t be the case with Divergent. It was very entertaining, and Theo James is so ridiculously attractive* that I just…yeah.

I mean, look at the man. And the girl who plays Tris. Photo from EW, obviously.

However, given that I enjoyed the ending of the Divergent series much more than I did with Hunger Games, that is subject to change with future installments. I also probably need to finally reread Mockingjay.

*I am a little sad that his eyes aren’t the dark blue I’ve read so much about, though.

86. Sick.

Whenever I’m sick, all I ever want is to be back home with my mom, who I know would take care of me and make sure I got all of the fluids and medication and whatnot.

The first time I really felt that way was right around Election Day 2008. I remember it so clearly. Since some of the other staffers were out of town, I was in charge of the student paper and had to cover a number of campaign events, including a Sarah Palin rally in which my New York Times lanyard wasn’t viewed particularly favorably by some of the attendees. On the day of the election, I stringed for the AP* by covering voting polls and then the Democratic election party.

And all the while, I battled against a rather awful case of bronchitis. I was hacking up a storm, and I probably shouldn’t have been working the entire time.

85. Thaw.

Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.

From the movie “Frozen,” which I just watched for the umpteenth time. Right now, the only frozen hearts around here are those of the D.C. weather gods, who keep teasing us with hints of spring before bringing back winter’s ravages. (All winter, I’ve thought about is how funny the timing of the release of “Frozen” is with the worst winter D.C. has experienced since I’ve moved here.)

All I want in the world is to get my winter coats dry cleaned and then stored away for the next six months. Is that so much to ask?

84. Cold.

I am cold and I have a cold, so I’m skipping choir rehearsal tonight and am about to take some drugs and put myself to bed. It’s just past 7 p.m. and the sun (hidden behind clouds all day because of the snow) hasn’t actually set yet, but I don’t really care.

 

83. Mail.

Getting mail is so exciting nowadays. Today, I received a card from friend Karen, who was my boss when I worked at Nevada Humanities. The card featured a photo she had taken herself, and the note was about the Chris Pine (one of my imaginary celebrity husbands) article she had sent me — and ripped out of a magazine in order to do so.

82. D.C.

Four years ago today, I called up the features editor at Roll Call, Debbie, and told her that I’d love to accept her offer for an internship at the paper. The decision came after a few days of deliberation and the stealing of my five-day-old laptop (I had taken the offer as a sign that the universe was sorry for that spell of bad luck). It was the right thing to do. I just knew it.

81. Hippie.

After having brunch with friends Amy and Alyssa today, Alyssa and I wandered over to Dupont Circle to enjoy the beautiful spring weather. We picked a spot next to a man who was arranging rocks in the shape of a flower.

The man, listening to our conversation, decided to interject at various points with the most random stories about an encounter he had with a raven and making sand sculptures on the beach. He was a self-proclaimed, bandana-wearing hippie, telling us all about the free love days of Dupont back in the 1960s (as told to him by his sister, he noted; it wasn’t quite as free when he arrived in the 1970s) and how he tried to hop the White House fence back when Jimmy Carter was in office.

All the while, he continued to make his little rock art on the pavement.