I had a grouchy day yesterday.
When I was in my late teens or early twenties, I used to have grouchy days too – those days where nothing is right, everything feels off, you feel unsuccessful, incapable and unmotivated. But at the time I always thought, at least I’m not a full-grown adult yet. Once I become an adult, I won’t have days like this. Or if I do, they’ll be much easier – I’ll be able to understand them or fix them. OR everything in my life will be so perfect that it will be impossible for me to feel badly about any of it.
That didn’t work out as planned…
Since I’m turning 30 later this year, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the expectations we set up for ourselves when we’re younger that may or may not become realized when we grow up. 30 is an age that people like to put stuff on. It’s a meaningless number when you’re a kid, but it’s also a number that seems so far away. You think you can make promises about how life will be by then and you won’t have to worry about fulfilling them for a long time.
But time moves so fast, it turns out, and before you know it we’re all dead. Murdered by serial killers in the middle of the night. I’m kidding. I can’t stop watching “Criminal Minds.”
Anyway. Grouchy day yesterday. But then we had a great, energizing HST show that the audience seemed to love. And we had a nice chat with the PIT’s very kind and attentive artistic director afterward. And then I came home and the sweetest boyfriend ever had installed the air conditioner as a surprise and I almost cried because oh my God it’s hot here. And then we sat together on the bed to catch up on our days and cuddle and snuggle and lament life’s little miseries because sometimes you just have to.