I haven't written in awhile because every time I even think about going to write I envision all the frustrations I'll have with word choice, putting my thoughts into words, and remembering how much energy it takes to right it perfectly.
Screw perfect.
I have a kajillion moments I have recorded in my journal, lots of drafts that are never seen by another eye, and unfinished business with beginning pieces.
I'm over it. And so exhausted.
When I finally feel like I've got a grip on adult life post college with my big kid job something comes flying out of left field and all I want to do is drink good beer pretending the world has stopped spinning for five minutes.
But I'm pretty thankful it doesn't.
All in all, adulting is go-go-go and my to-do list seems to be a never ending battle as I keep pushing some items off for a week and spontaneously going home for a weekend. Visiting home is always relaxing in and of itself but the travel and wear and tear from my copious drinking besties can have me start the work week with a bitter mindset.
With all that being said, the purpose of this blurb is to officially announce that I am slowly but surely turning into my parents.
This last week was a big week in my store as we prepared for a visit from some of our senior management and big wigs from headquarters. Not only is that kiiiiind of a big deal and a great time to learn, network, and show off the store-- its an incredible amount of work since everything has to be perfect.
There is that annoying word again.
Going into the work week our leadership team was on point with communicating and prioritizing to make sure all we needed to do was dot our i's and cross the t's on the big day. Our execution was close to flawless as you could get but it didn't come without some commitment on my day off. All my peers and I rearranged our schedule to prep and still manage work life balance- and on the eve before my normal day off but the day I was going in to support the store, I found myself so excited I had to take melatonin to shut off my brain and sleep. However, when my boyfriend came to bed at 2:08 in the morning he accidently woke my brain back up. I laid there for awhile trying to seep back into dreamland only to find my brain eager to assess my tasks for the day and role play conversations I wanted to have that day. Fed up, I dragged myself out of bed only to find myself snapping back to reality as I put the milk back in the fridge. My consciousness stirred. Did I really just get out of bed and intrinsic bee line it to the milk?
When did I turn into my mom?????!
My mom is notorious for getting up in the middle night, wander downstairs, drink a glass of milk and go back to bed. Zombie status. I don't even know when I started craving milk in the middle of the night but I never could comprehend why MILK was the beverage she craved in the wee hours of the morning but here I was...
Genetics, man!
After I came to my post milk revelation I had another disturbing realization.
The fact that I can't sleep? I'm becoming more like my dad, too.
My dad constantly has issues falling back to sleep once awoken. When I visit home and stay out late he will be able to tell me the next morning the exact time I locked the doors behind me because he was already trying to fall back asleep due to something else keeping him up. Once we wake up. our minds remain in unstoppable go model and sheep sound like a mythological creature.
So the second I got off work about five that following afternoon, I couldn't help but call my dad and proclaim, "When did I turn into you guys?!!"
Welcome to adulthood, yo.
No comments:
Post a Comment