What I really want are days off to be a slobby, selfish teenager again. A day where I naturally sleep in. That almost never happens anymore. How come when you become a member of the AARP generation your body is only tired at 3 in the afternoon? Not 8:30 in the morning? Now I can only sleep in when I'm deathly ill. No fun. Can't force it. Bummer.
Okay, no sleeping in.
Then how about a day where I lounge around all day and the phone doesn't ring, I don't notice any of the mess in the house. I don't notice the dishes leftover from the lovely, greasy spare rib dinner of the night before. I don't see the flowers wilting. I don't see the laundry, (my clothes, only mine), that lay sprawled on the dryer just waiting for ME to fold them. Of course, no one else notices these things. Hubby walks past that door and scarcely glances that way. How come I do? I don't want to notice them. Just like when I was 14 and could walk by a stack of clothes for ironing that was as high as my shoulders. Completely blind to the pile.
I want to be completely happy with no guilt about eating two bowls of frosted flakes for breakfast as I sit and watch whatever is on television. I want to have no compulsion to watch the news. I wish I didn't want to turn on Fox News and hear about the latest terrorist or how the price of gasoline is up or down. I just don't want to care. How come I can't do such simple things? How come for one day I can't make myself NOT CARE?
Don't misunderstand. I have a lovely life. Trials yes. But still a lovely life. I am not complaining about anyone else but myself. So, since I can't force myself to become a lazy, carefree old teenager again, I must resort to some sort of therapy.
Today I not only used a mothers's day gift and got a facial and pedicure (thanks, K and J!), I did some therapy on myself. Shopping therapy. Hubby gave me a pair of laser scissors for Mother's Day, yes there are such things. I have a pair on my desk! And then he said I should buy something for myself.
There's nothing I really NEED to buy, but Ross had lots of things today that I bought. Why was it therapy? Can someone tell me? I think maybe I know.
Shopping in a store that has absolutely NOTHING I need but lots of STUFF is sorta like being a teenager. All selfishness. What do I want in MY bathroom? Do I want this rug or that rug in MY house? How would this shirt look on ME? Do I like the shoes on MY feet? ME, MINE, I. That's why shopping is therapy when you're entering the AARP generation. It's all about MEEEEEE. Just like those teenage years.
Here's the result - two tank tops to wear under shirts, two shirts, one cute billowy skirt, a pair of shoes,two "unmentionables," some rugs for one of the bathrooms and a towel holder. They will make me happy when I wear them and I will like seeing the rugs and towel holder in the bathroom. Oh yeah, had a sandwich for lunch from Subway. See the napkin?
What's the moral of this blog?
Sorry, I can't think of one. Maybe the moral is that writing is a sort of therapy of its own. Words spill out and then you don't have to think them anymore. Brain is a bit less overflowing. Well in reality, I guess that's sorta like being a teenager. Do something (shop) one day, spill it all out of the bag. Go on to the next day. Today is gone, tomorrow is coming. Nothing much really lasts. Live for the moment.
That's something I rarely allow myself to do. Happy Birthday, ME!!
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