It's Complicated

March 16, 2018

A friend of mine describes me as complicated. In fact, she isn't the only one to do so. I have always struggled with things. I wish I could skip to the grocery and whistle a happy tune while I cook dinner and gleefully watch my children play their many, many, many games. I wish I delighted in an uber-clean house and an empty laundry basket. I do not.

I delight in a good walk or a run. I delight in a day with my son on the couch. A day in the sun. A visit from a student--past or present. A conversation with my girl. My pups. Things that count.

But I get all balled up because I don't care about the aforementioned. All the adult sh*t you are supposed to do in Carol Brady fashion. Except I guess Alice did it. Lucky Carol ;). Anyhoo, it's a conflict within me. I get things done, generally. But when my Dad stopped by yesterday and I only had tissue paper in the bathroom because we were out of toilet paper because I'd forgotten it on my grocery run and the toilet bowl needed cleaning, I felt some judgment.

Ah, what the hell. From now on, I will just say, "I'm complicated!"