I meant to take some time to write my yearly birthday post, but I slept really late and then embarked on random organizing projects and suddenly the day was almost over. But it was filled with key lime pie and coffee and later, tequila and dispensary weed the boyfriend procured. Most of my presents to myself arrived, including some new leopard sunglasses, a cute crochet bag for summer (if we get a summer) and a lighter blanket for the bed. I meant to make it a productive writing day, but am having a hard time getting into that headspace. Ditto on today, so we'll see how the week shakes out. There are some more intensive writing/planning things for the library and some more digging in on the new system launching there this summer (which seems like a ridiculous changeover to happen mid- pandemic, but whatever).
As for the last year, it's been a weird one, probably most weird the past month or two, but on the whole a jumble of near misses, hysteria, things that seemed bad luck, but turned out to be good luck. I've felt precarious this year more than anything, not just recently, but since fall's financial unrest. But my 45th year was also filled with absolute good things--demon twin siamese cats, some decent writing, pretty clothes, and some fun library stuff. I was ruminating on this post from a decade ago, and yet, that girl feels very far away as well. I feel like my statement of never feeling like a grown up still holds, but I am much more comfortable with it ten years later (and will no doubt feel the same in another 10.)
