As I looked around at my life’s recent additions this week I realized most of them are things I’ve resisted, things I’ve even sassed and snarked about.
“I don’t need that,” I’d say, scowling like almost always. Or I’d declare I just simply can’t, can’t wake up early enough to go to the gym before work, can’t keep additional things alive in my house. Can’t, with a side of don’t fucking wanna.
I like my 30s rather a lot. They’ve helped me learn to admit when I am wrong.
The last time I had a robe was 2007. It was useful then. I needed it. It’s what I put it on in the morning to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom along a covered porch while I was deployed to Kosovo. It had not occurred to me that having one in my home would be useful until a recent discussion with some lady friends.
“Robes are great,” they declared. “We love robes.”
I was unconvinced. But it’s winter, my house is cold and after one of those lady friends tramped around my house in a robe during a recent visit I decided to buy one for myself.
Turns out, robes are pretty useful.
This used to be a one plant household. I have had one brave, iron-clad pothos plant in my kitchen for years. It has never asked much of me. Sometimes I forget to water it for weeks and it’s fine. It is not a difficult plant to sustain.
But I wanted more, especially after visiting the plant-filled apartment of my best bitch last August.
I was apprehensive at first. I did not want to commit accidental or negligent homicide on any sort of thing, but I did want plant friends. So I bought a few. And then a few more. Now there are eight plants residing here and I can’t go to Lowe’s without cooing at potential new leafy roommates.
(I did kill one plant. It was very sad.)
I roll my eyes at most things, especially trendy things like the YETI mugs that have become wildly popular in the last few years. But then I won this this YETI Rambler in a raffle at work and now I’m obsessed.
EARLY MORNING WORKOUTS.
I have been a person who goes to the gym early in the morning. I have also been a person who hits snooze 27 times and snuggles deeper into my nest of blankets until it’s time to get up and get ready for work. I have skipped workouts because my bed is cozy and because I love sleep and because I have sweet wolves who love morning snuggles.
But my life is better when I don’t hit snooze, when I get out of the bed, put on clothes, get in the car and go to the fucking gym. I’m happier. My house stays cleaner. I skip fewer workouts. It’s all just better.
“Alexa, play ocean noises,” is what I ask of my bedroom robot just after asking her to turn off the bedroom light.
I’m generally a good sleeper, but after some neighborhood noises kept me up a few weeks ago, I asked the robot to play ocean noises which quickly and efficiently knocked me right the fuck out. Now it’s part of my bedroom routine. I ask the robot to play ocean noises just after having her turn off the bedroom light so I don’t have to move from whatever cozy nested position I’ve snuggled into during my bedtime reading session.