Sometimes it hits me how grateful I am to be a grown-up and not have to worry about someone telling me what to do and how to do it all the time. Sometimes I hear people say how they would love to go back in time and relive a younger age. I have never wished that. Not once. I love being thirty-three. Thirty four seems like it’s going to be pretty darn great too.
Today it hit how great being an adult is when I spotted a pile of my shoes that should be in my closet but are not. My mother would be so ashamed. I am not. This is not my closet, but it’s convenient and they stay nice and toasty next to the heater all night.