Ramblings.

I am not finding much patience in myself today.

I am perfectly able to be patient, kind, understanding, helpful and any number of other agreeable and pleasant adjectives when I am feeling well.  Today, I am not feeling so well.

Here, I will practice satya (truthfulness) and provide you with a list of all the terrible things I have felt and said today:

1. I actually considered egging small children whom were playing joyfully outside my apartment causing an ear shattering din.

2. I cussed at a minimum of 10 cars on a 10 mile drive.

3. I called my dog a shittank.

4. I just lied, because I didn't actually call my dog a shittank at all. Although that's funny.

5.  While on a webchat at work, I become extremely frustrated with a gentleman whose name I do not even remember at this point!

I have been feeling awful all day long- physically and emotionally. Highlight of my day was picking my darling roommate up from the airport today after her 8 day visit to Greenland (Read: Wisconsin). Writing them down makes me feel better.

On a different note, I am becoming increasingly more aware of this whole "growing up" thing I've been doing the last 24 years and 12 days. Please allow me to exemplify what I mean by providing you with a play by play of my day.

8:40 AM Wake up
9:00 AM Work
2:10 PM Pick up roommate from airport
2:40 PM Work
(hence forth this is a schedule.. I am not writing this from the future.. yet)
5:30 PM Off work, head to the bank
6:30 PM Pick up dog food
7:00 PM- 8:00 PM Feed dogs, laundry, pay bills (insurance, cable and mail rent check)
8:00 PM Dinner with the roommate

Make note of a couple of things:
Working all day long. Running errands. Responsible for keeping others alive. Paying bills. Drinking wine (this should be assumed by "dinner with roommate")

When did I grow up? When did these things happen to me? When I was younger I was always excited about getting older. All the things you get to do always seemed so exciting.

I have a very clear memory from my 10th birthday where I realized I had been alive for a decade. I was sitting on the cement dock at Dottie's house. Dottie was a little old lady my mother cleaned house for. She was the first person I had ever encountered who walked around with an oxygen tank plugged into her nose everywhere she went. She had a double wide on a gravel lot. Where I am from, trailers can cost $100,000 easy so it wasn't in a poor neighborhood. In fact, it was in a relatively nice area. Upper middle class trailer park you could say. So I was sitting on the cement dock, dangling my string bean legs over the edge and looking at tanned nose and bright blonde hair shining back at my in my reflection. I remember looking down at my hands and thinking that these hands had been around for a decade already. I had just recently learned what "decade" meant and I kept telling everyone I was a "decade." Which obviously makes no sense. I remember this moment so clearly because I thought, "I will never be a single digit ever again." And most probably, for the rest of my life, I will be a double digit. I'm not sure why that had such a profound effect on me.

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