Getting Soft

Posted: February 26, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m not young anymore.

I know, I know I’m only 25. I’m still young. But I don’t FEEL young.  In fact, doing …anything… is more of a job than fun.

Honestly staying home and being bored doesn’t happen… ever. Staying home and having absolutely nothing to do is like finding the holy grail. In fact, for holidays and special occasions, that is exactly what I ask the hubby for. Nothing. I don’t want nothing. I don’t want to do nothing. Just leave me with my pillow and blankets and nothingness.

I think as adults, we always have a schedule, a routine, to maintain.
And I hate it.
Every day, every single day of my life is planned. I have days that I work. I have days that I’m off from work. But when I”m off from work I have my tending house schedule of going shopping for house/food things, cooking, cleaning and things that needed to be done but i ignored because it was a day I worked.

I don’t just randomly go places and do things anymore. But, the real puncher is , I don’t want too!

home, free, stay home,


I just love to be home and have the chance to do absolutely nothing. Maybe, I’m just lazy.

It’s other things too. Like I get hangovers now. You have no idea how big this is. I started drinking young ( hey it happens when you’re the youngest in the family) and I used to drink all night several nights in a row and somethings wake up feeling shitty but nothing a big greasy breakfast and a cup of coffee couldn’t rid of. Now? I don’t even have the urge to drink anymore. It’s more work than having a good time. I have to plan for drinking. I have to plan to get everything i need done and then I have to plan when I will stop and I have to plan proper recovery time for work the next day. It’s all planning and apparently there is a chance I wake up with a hangover and having to work a full retail shift? Yeah. Drinking has lost its appeal. And sometimes I’m so tired after working I have the choice of staying up drinking or falling asleep in my nice warm comfy bed… yeah, I’ll take the bed.

That’s another thing. Sleep. Holy Christ I need sleep. I can’t even pull off an all nighter anymore. I don’t even want to try. A few hours sleep? Not going to happen. Some days I’m forced into that ( working closing, then opening the next day). I”m miserable and everyone knows it… not enough coffee in the world. I easily drink 4 or 5 cups just to make it home and once I’m home I pass the fuck out and sleep like the dead.  I need a minimum of 6 and half to function. But I can easily sleep 12 hours and still be able to go right back to sleep if I didn’t have to work and walk my dog…

And finally, I’m a fucking chicken shit now. I get scared. I used to be able to watch scary movies and laugh. Now? I have to light up my house like a Christmas tree for days and learn to control my heart rate to prevent having a heart attack. And i’m squeamish now! Un fucking believable. I used to pride myself on my UN-girlieness. I had a tough stomach. This one is a pretty new development too. I survived Omar’s cancer treatment squeamish free- there was lots of bodily fluids there, blood and puke. I was fine. But now? I almost pass out from his farts and have to squeeze my eyes shut from his cuts and bruises. Punk. That’s what I am.

I’m soft in my old age.

And I don’t like it.


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