I finished reading the Hunger Games trilogy this week. I never intended to like them, but they were so sneaky and amazing and now I’m going through withdrawal in a bad way. The husband is reading them now and I’m bursting because I can’t talk to him about them yet. Every other moment, I’m all, what part are you on now, which I’m sure he loves, He does. He does. I need a book club more than ever.
I had been losing badly to the combination of winter, potty training, and a sleep hating baby. I regret to inform you that one day I even wasted an hour of my life watching the Kardashians, something I plan on never repeating. Immediately after, I scolded myself. But, the day I finished reading Mockingjay, I was came alive with creative energy.
I’ve been packing a few boxes every day, you know, for that move that is coming next month. And you might be wondering, where are you moving? We have no freaking clue and my I-love-the-unknown game face is growing tired. But, we signed up for this, with all our adventurous-change-craving antics, so really I’m not sorry, just brutally aware of the fact that I am hardly in control, which is beautiful, but painful too.
Sometimes, I want to change this declaration to, Oh darling, let’s just be predictable people who live in cute little house with a laundry room, art studio, and a perfect yard, in a neighborhood full of our best friends, and never wonder what will happen next because nothing will ever change again.
But even considering that creepy-truman-show-esque utopia makes me shudder and and desire to pack a bag for each of us and jump in the car, destination unknown.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that everything is just as it should be.
And it’s the weekend.