When I look back and reread some of my posts, I fight the desire to cringe. I’ve become quite boring over the years.
I talk about my chickens, sustainability, road trips, writing, and I even penned poetry about some wild turkeys I befriended a few years back. It’s white-knuckle stuff, I know, but it’s dull. I’m dull. What happened to me? Don’t say it’s an aging thing because I’m not there yet.
I used to be the wild one, the fun one, the one who would say, “Yes I’ll go out dancing. Give me a few minutes to put on deodorant and brush my teeth.” I would leave the house at nine p.m. and now it’s a lucky day if I’m not quite under the covers by then watching sitcoms or documentaries, and I love dancing! It’s been years!
It used to be concerts, dancing, parties, and even inviting new people into my life. Is it a sign of the new times, my mental state, or just how life is? Do I strive to find more fun for my life or do I simply settle back on a Saturday night with my bag of M&M’s and watch Golden Girls?
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