Is it normal for 42-year-olds to go through growth spurts? I hope so because lately, my eating habits have been excessive, making me feel like a garbage dumpster. I went on a solo walkabout during the second intermission at the Kraken game tonight to scope the fare. Vendors of pulled pork nachos, fried macaroni and cheese, and everything expensive and unhealthy tempted me successfully.
Until today, I didn’t know I needed the floor-to-ceiling glass and the flip of a switch hot spritz spa treatment of a steam shower. That the steam is separate from the shower head means cold water and the hot steam can coalesce into a luxurious rainforest vibe. The must-have in our house build almost had me messaging our builder, but adding the three hours meant it’d be 8 pm his time. I can most definitely wait.
I fear a chaotic storyline in my book—one that tangles past, present, and future into knots while adding alternating perspectives that make the reader go, “Huh?” Since I was confused during editing today, the reader most definitely would be. A Google search says to create a timeline.
I don’t know what a crisis of conscience is, but I think I’m having one. The ground beneath me feels shaky, and my go-to hide under the covers forever sounds really nice. Something feels too much. It has a bit to do with the move. It’s a stomach-sick “what have I done” feeling. I’m scared. Like really scared. I envision my family and friends, especially the ones in their second half of life. I worry I’ll never see them again. It’s not rational. But it’s there, and I want to mention it.
I’m eating a hard-boiled egg on the drive back from the hockey game, and it reminded me of the conversation I had over FaceTime with my sister-in-law, Maria. Chicks and ducklings huddled in a kiddie pool behind her had me ask, “What the heck did you do?” to which she shrugged before admitting to the impulse buy. We have discussed a future poultry dream when we’re neighbors. It’s just earlier than expected. We’ll have fresh eggs six months from now and get to pet and snuggle those feathery little creatures when we fly in this Sunday.
I will sit back, edit, and then enjoy the rest of the drive. Take care, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Love, jaclynn
Going On 40 