My sister and I sometimes jokingly/ seriously refer to weekly tasks as “______ adult chores”. The blank has been filled with words such as: lame,
On a night like tonight, I can't help but to feel full of gladness and goodwill to be an adult. I ate an entire bag of sweet potato chips for dinner, alongside a big bowl full of guacamole. I took the garbage out in my cut off sweatpants and sports bra. I am baking a big, fat, delicious bowl of apple crisp which I am going to eat as soon as I am finished drinking my beer and writing this post. I am then going to eat dessert in bed, while leafing through the Babycakes NYC cookbooks my friend Lindsay lent me.
It occurs to me that I often think of myself as 16, 18, or 10 in my head. Every now and then when I make a string of choices that defy the usual I can't help but to feel a little bit triumphant, a little bit defiant, and awesome a hundred times over.