The every day now

I have dog hair coming out of my nose and tomato soup stains on the front of my sweater, but I’m comfortably ensconced on the sofa between editing and writing and sending out the dreaded advertisements. The days have finally slinked into a doable pattern that I can cope with semi-willingly. I stumble blindly to the kitchen for tea, take a quick shower, wash the dishes from the night before, eat a yoghurt, put on my big girl panties, send out the first emails of the day, respond to the queries and questions, request more tea from Sean who’s still on the couch in his jammies watching Adventure Time, take off laundry, phone the traffic department, edit articles as they come in, try my hand at writing, stop to answer the phone, process requests, edit articles, add to my to do list, play with the dogs, make dinner, cuddle Sean, go to bed.
When I was in high school and at university I was a pain in the ass. My boyfriend says when he met me I was loud and obnoxious. I wanted so many things for myself back then, I didn’t think how I was affecting others. I wanted to be rich and famous, I thought I was the shizznizz. What I became instead was, against my best attempts at sabotage, happy. I am happy to shout at the dogs and struggle with the words and to love the one I’m with. I think people can get better as they get older. Like a good red wine.
The every day isn’t so bad. Because it contains moments now where I know who I am and what I want. And I’m not sad about the past or despondent about the future any more.
I think what I’m trying to say is that I am now well and truly growing up.

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