I'm tired. Not because it's late, which it is, at 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. But because I'm just worn out.
As a kid, I never wondered about my life as an adult, because I had it all figured out. I used to play The Game of Life with my sisters. Somehow, miraculously (come on, who am I kidding, I'm a master manipulator when I want to be), I always ended up with six kids (which is two kids too many to fit in the standard sedan that the game supplies you with), living in an old farmhouse and working as a doctor. That was my dream life, and I fully expected it to come true.
Now I'm approaching 30. Okay, I'll actually be thirty in six days. And I'm not married and I don't have any children; I'm not a doctor and I don't live in a farmhouse.
My dog ran away today, after a 40-minute hike in the woods, just before I was going to put his leash back on and head down the street to our house. I had a huge to-do list that was only a third of the way completed. But instead of finishing my list (which actually included taking my dog in the car to do errands, followed by a visit to the dog park), I ended up searching for him for almost three hours, hiking through the woods, retracing our steps, wearing myself out. Finally, I got a call from a little girl, who said my dog was at the bottom of the street, hanging around a small park, chewing a blue ball he stole from a little boy. Who she was and how she got my number, I'm not sure. I want to phone her tomorrow, hopefully talk to her parents, see if I can give a gift of thanks.
Living on the other side of the country from where I grew up, from where my family still lives, is difficult. I feel like I've almost found my place, but it's still exhausting. Even though it's been over two years, sometimes it feels like no one knows me and I'm starting from scratch, volunteering, joining groups and clubs, trying to meet people and establish myself.
After finding the dog, I headed home, made a dinner that I didn't eat until hours later (my boyfriend works nights, so I try to cook meals for him), went to band practice, made a quick grocery trip, bought some wine (because after my afternoon, I needed a drink), came home, finished cleaning the bathtub, and finally ate my dinner.
There's folded towels piled on the chair that I keep meaning to list on Craigslist, dry clothes in the dryer, wet clothes in the washer, and I don't care, because I'm tired. I feel like I never get ahead, and there's always two things unfinished for every one thing I cross off the list. No one ever told me that this was what being grown up really meant.
Makes me wonder if I could have really handled a real life version of The Game of Life?
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