Being an Adult

My nose is stuffy. My back hurts from folding a month's worth of laundry that has been sitting in a pile (a clean pile, but a pile nonetheless) on my bedroom floor for weeks. The lunches are packed and the dishes are done. All of the house-buying papers that need to get faxed back tomorrow are signed and secured in my bag for work.

I feel exhausted. I feel old.

David and I tried to play basketball this afternoon. It's our new thing... to help us remember to "play" and not just work. He wrenched his shoulder and I jammed my finger. The pre-teens playing in the other court didn't know what to make of us as we huffed and puffed our way to the basket and back.

This week at work will be extremely difficult. And not just because of PMS and my on-coming cold. Lately at work I feel like an oxen on that old computer game Oregon Trail, and all the other oxen have snake bites and dehydration... so there's just me to tug the overloaded wagon over the mountains. I keep wondering when I'm going to finally crest the hill and get to coast down the other side. It can't be completely uphill the whole way, can it?

Just two and a half more years. Then I'm retiring.

Don't tell my mortgage lender that though, k? I can't afford even another penny in interest rates.

Sometimes, when I'm tired like tonight and really need to just be getting a good nights sleep instead of logging all my many complaints online, I wonder if this is all there is to being an adult. More work and less play. All work and no play. Sore muscles when we do play.

Did being an adult turn out how you thought it was going to?