Blame it on last night’s trip to Baron, or that its a lazy, sunny Saturday and I have the house to myself, but I am feeling plain lazy. It feels good. I spent my morning reading blogs. There’s a lot of awesome ones-check out the side bar, bottom right, for a selection of great blogs I like to follow. Recently, someone asked what I do with my time…I seem to get stuff done, and by all outward appearances, have the whole adult-thing on lock down. I smiled and nodded, wanting to say that I wake up, brew the perfect espresso and go for a morning jog. But instead, I ventured into a discussion of how I actually roll:
- wake up at 7, or…ok, 11, in the make up I wore last night, in over sized mens pajamas, missing a sock.
- try to dig myself out of the mound of blankets that I have effectively wrapped myself around in, so I look like a giant Raina burrito (or as I call it, a Rainarito).
- try to find a hair band, or a clippy, to wrangle the beast that is my hair. In real life, I have HUGE hair. Seriously, this thing has a life of it’s own, and requires a small army of hair products and a supporting team to keep it strapped down. Its like the Predator of hair.
- Realize 30 mins later I have been wondering around the house with one sock on, but do nothing to either take one off, or search out the missing one.
- Open the fridge to try and decide what to eat for breakfast and whether I can justify pickles as a breakfast.
- Decide shortly that coffee will work for now, and microwave a cup of what was left from last night.
- Feed the animals, let the dog out on her own, and start up my computer, only to realize the dog is waiting at the door, and I am still missing a sock.
Bottom line: Breakfast is about as far as I got with that discussion before I noticed a look of concern on said friends face, so i quickly shifted the topic.
I used to think that I had to be the perfect woman. I used to keep a near-perfect house, work full time, go to school full time and come home and put an amazing meal on the table. I paid all of my bills on time, and had cats that wore sweaters. Do you know how hard that crap is to keep up? Bah. On the outside it all looked fabulous, but on the inside I was beat and miserable. 7 years ago when I finally moved to Seattle, I stopped doing all of that. At first I felt guilty and then ashamed. GASP! What will people think!? And then I started going out more and actually living a good life instead of always wanting things to be perfect, and the more I did that, the happier I became. I know I won’t ever have a perfect house. There’s too much animal fur and crafts for that to happen, but I am ok with that. It’s nice knowing that I have my routines, as silly as they may be (or frightful for anyone who has ever seen me fetch the mail with hair flying madly about). And good on those women who can wake up, unhungover every Saturday, ready to take on the world… If that is you? Awesome! If it’s not? Its ok too. No pressure to be that way.