I haven’t had much to write about lately. It has nothing to do with all of my free time
being dedicated to 3 seasons of Downton Abbey and consequently recovering from
the ugly tears evoked from each episode.
Or, that my New Year’s Resolution lasted about ten days, and I am full
of shame. But, the days are getting
brighter and my editor has been pressing me for more material. (Like Lady Edith, my editor and I are
romantically entangled.) Sadly, my
primary motivation for writing this post is the big pile of clean laundry waiting to be put away. Combing my brain
for something inspirational about the past couple months is a lot less taxing than
pairing up socks. And, I doubt that I
should dedicate an entire post to beer and French fries.
Six months from now, I will be hitting a milestone
birthday. I always viewed 32 as the age
where I would officially become a responsible adult. (Maybe finally taking the GRE and choose a life
direction that would prove my worth and appreciation to the women who broke
barriers so that my generation could “have it all”.) Somehow, hosting at a restaurant and taking improv
classes are not exactly the steps to responsibility, even if they are a lot of
fun. (Like the staircase that Paula
Abdul and MC Skat Kat dance on.)
 |
| Whodda thought? |
Slowly, I am trying to adapt more responsible behavior into
my life, a little more time at the gym, waking up without the snooze button,
regular use of dental floss. Baby steps
to delay the end of my beer and frites phase.
(Calling them frites instead of fries sounds more adult, and less artery
clogging.) On that note, I should
probably tackle that pile of laundry, but the dishes? They can wait until tomorrow.
