Even though my holiday trip home was a short one and only for the weekend, it's still a bit bumpy of a re-entry (and mostly just avoidance and getting back into routines and ignoring that my phone has not been recharged in three days and IJUSTDON'TCARE..) the holiday was the usual chocolate-egg filled hamfest, but also warmer weather and blooming daffodils and finally being able to spend a night sleeping with the windows open.
I am ever so busy this birthday week, so by the end of it, I will hitting the big 4-0, which is only disheartening when I think that about ten minutes ago I was like 26. I don't mind getting older, but it's just the weird disconnect I feel between the reality of my actual age and the youngish person I feel I still am. Though if 40 is the new 30, hopefully I'll be good, mostly since my thirties were (outside of a couple rough patches, mostly romance related) pretty freakin awesome. I think I've learned that I don't have to fit the mold of the typical "grown-up" (mold being the operative word, the stone turned over, settled in, and grown mossy with disuse.) The idea of "settled" by this age or that age makes me uneasy. I want newness, shininess, excitement. For anything being liable to happen. For all things to be possible.