This morning, I awoke with the taste of strawberries in my mouth.

Not the super-sweet sugary candy flavor, but the real thing: sweet, but tart and juicy. It was as though I had bitten into a ripe fruit during my slumber.

This is highly unusual; I normally wake with a bitter or outright sour taste in my mouth. I can offer no explanations for this. We do not keep strawberries in the house; they are out of season and would be too cost prohibitive to buy. I have not been to a Sonic Drive-In for a strawberry lime-aid since this past October, there are none in Wisconsin. And I haven't had a strawberry margarita in months. It's puzzling, to say the least.

Next month will mark a year since DP and I moved. One whole year. It doesn't feel that long.

I've transferred to a different store; I'm working closer to home now. I miss the old store sometimes, if only for the people.

I miss the old apartment, too. Sometimes.

It's a new year. I hope that it will be much better than the last.