• Eat breakfast, girl! 
• Enjoy making silly things for dear friends.
• Write letters. Can I send you one? 
• Listen to music. Gave up on music for far too long. Let's reconnect. 
• Nevermind the idea that professional contacts will stumble across this silly blog. Grown ups can blog too. 
• Reconnect with your best friends. 
• Let it out. 
• Be embarassed. 
• Clean for a living. 
• Facebook for a living. 
• Laugh at the absurdities of 'making a living.' 
• Shout obscenities at the sky. Later apologize. 
• Let your neighbors hear, but never see, you cry.
• Go to New Orleans. 
• Go to Austin. 
• Go to Colorado. 
• Go to Canada. 
• Go to Mexico. Just a little.  
• Have a little unrequited love. Check. 
• Listen to every version of "Somebody that I used to know" imaginable. Especially the bad ones. 
• Go to showers! Host showers! Take showers! 
• Remake the bucket list. 
• Take jogs. 
• Take walks. 
• Take stock. 
• Drink lots of chai. No coffee!
• Talk to Mom. Listen.
• Ride bikes. 
• Eat brunches, but not so much that you grow to hate poached eggs.
• Let the little things that annoy you about hipsters go. This is the hardest one. 
• Balance your checkbook girl! 
• Lana del Rey.
• The idler wheel is wiser than the driver of the screw and whipping cords will serve you more than ropes will ever do. 
• Turn it up. 
• Make friends with a Kleenex. 
• Wish someone a heartfelt happy birthday. 
• Let yourself float in space, astronaut. 
• Dress up for work to impress the boss, when you're her. 
• Hug your business partner. 
• Kiss your friends goodbye daily. You never know.
• Get on the roof more. 
• Sleep on the sidewalk more. 
• Carry on the search for the perfect hammock. 
• And the perfect hot tub
• Take more mental pictures of the sunset. Delete the things that take up good space.
• Slow dance. 
• Take better care. Not like Drake. 
• Embrace scars. Rock 'em.
• Give Nancy Drew a flea bath so you can share a bed with her again. Miss my four-legged pillow. 

 The beauty of hurt is that eventually it doesn't. You start with a pain so loud you can't do much else but indulge it. It slowly becomes a dull ache, and some unfathomable day later, it is at last a mere memory. At least, this is what I think I recall happens. See?

• Get there. 
• Don't be a fool. Except in the company of closest friends.
  
  That's probably enough to do.