I have a problem.
A list problem.
I have grocery lists, lists for my Etsy shop, lists of design projects, lists for work, lists for my new job, and lists for packing and moving. My constant multi-tasking has enabled me to never really focus on one thing. I work on a sewing project while Mike and I watching a movie, I clean the room while we’re talking, and I mentally plan out my day while running. I am basically unable to relax and enjoy myself. (Except when I was at the beach. Ah, the beach house.)
Instead of being fully present in a moment, I am stressed about what’s for dinner, when we’re going to pack, how messy the bathroom is, and why there are always dishes in the sink.
I’m a long, long way from figuring out how to enjoy the process of each day instead of viewing each day as 24 hours in which to get things done.
. . .
Dude.
I sound like SUCH a downer.
I was going to write a post about how this weekend made me realize that my friends make me feel like myself. That I am loud and weird and dorky and silly and they know that. They remember doing Indian runs for fun. They remember how I used to mooch off them at lunch. They remember when we met eleven years ago, and stayed friends with me even when I moved to the other side of the world and back. These people are amazing.
They don’t bat an eye when I score a 15 on the 1-10 scale of the How Much Like Princess Leia Do I Look?…
They join me (and more importantly, don’t judge me) when I decide to talk to them boobs on the altar…
They know that when I am in a picture, there’s a 90% chance there will be an open mouth and/or a peace sign involved...
They are not above showering in a YMCA locker room before getting our hair done for Katie’s wedding…
They never make me feel as insanely tiny as I am…
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