Gas prices. Need I say more?
We’ve decided to move. The gas is getting too high for us both in the commute to work. It’s ridiculous I don’t even want to talk about it. So we’re moving and at first I was not real excited about it, but then I gave it some thought. I looked back over the last month or two, and recognized that feeling I’ve had in the pit of my stomach and the voice at the back of my brain telling me things were getting stale.
I get very impatient, I notice within myself a silent turmoil begin to build as things around me settle. It’s the most bizarre thing to explain, I think impossible unless you yourself feel the same thing. Like maybe life as you knew it is changing and now mundane is the word of the day, but it’s not the word of the day anymore – no, now it’s the word of the week, because change, well suddenly it’s not so great anymore.
Suddenly change is a scary place that you don’t like and you’re afraid bad things will happen. I was in that place. I thought that life was getting better when we bought this place. You know what settling is? It’s a place for wanderers to die.
I think I’m meant to roam. I would love, absolutely love trucking my ass around the country, just spending odd amounts of time in different places (more beaches than not). That is my ideal life. I think the longest I’ve ever lived somewhere since childhood has been about two years. I start getting to where I feel like I’m caged because the layout doesn’t change and you can’t move your surroundings around and switch it all up and feel different.
I started getting cagey and feeling like life had grown stagnant. Nothing freaks me out more than feeling like I’m chained. This is what scares the hell out of me about marriage. Really. Every time I think of it in a novelty sort of way, it sounds great and sweet and lovey and all that jazz. But then I start thinking of the other stuff like getting comfortable and people who use the bathroom with the door open and talk about the way their nether regions function because they’re married.
Maybe I’m weird, but I don’t really want to know all that. If there are issues, there are those who have gone to school to be able to tell what your issues is, tell them. I don’t want any part of it. Not that I’m like a fair weather girl, but I can’t do that taking care of the gross stuff. No way. Not me, thanks but I’ll call the doc. We’ll hire a nurse, and I’ll be sweet and by the bedside, but I’m leaving the room for the gross stuff and the taking care of those sorts of things. Yeck!
I love my man. Without a doubt and with all that I could ever give as if love could be measured and given. But I can’t go for that. I know he’s opposite, he would do whatever was necessary, I don’t know why that’s different for me. Truth be told, I used to say the same thing about diapers and if someone were to ask me to change one today, I’d probably laugh and leave the room, that’s a funny joke. I never wanted to take part in that whole activity, I did it out of necessity and got the job done yes, but I was glad when that was over.
Well, this has turned into a post about my weirdness so before you guys all think I’m just so bizarre you don’t think you’ll read MouthyGirl anymore, let me remind you about this awesome thing I’m doing here….