So this is growing up?

I have always hated change. It didn't matter how slight, I hated it. When my mom used to clean my room (yeah, my mom used to clean my room, so what? jealous much?) I couldn't watch; it sent me into a panic attack. Whenever anyone used to tell me they were thinking about moving from one apartment to another, or changing jobs, or dating someone new, I was against it. Fervently, and without reason. I recognized it as an immature part of my personality, and always I hoped that someday I would grow out of it. I assumed the nature pattern of growth would be that I would realize within my heart of hearts that that other person's actions had no baring on my life, and I have no right to act as if I have any say in what they do, or do not do. But that wasn't the case. Although, just recently, I've noticed I no longer boil at the thought of other people's change, it isn't because I respect that their decisions are their own. Its just that I no longer give a crap.

Is this what being an adult feels like?

Short Mess

I try to get as much accomplished on my days off as I can.
Today, I wanted to fix the new pair of jeans I bought. They're a 'regular' length, and I am not a regular lengthed person, but I figured it would be no big deal to hem them. Then I found out we were out of staples, so that ruined that plan. At first, I was frustrated that Mike used the staples toward his PhD endeavors when I had planned on using them on my pant legs, but then I remembered that I was probably the last person to use the stapler when the hem fell out of my work pants last week, so I wont mention it.
I would just wear heels, but that never looks normal on me. Long jeans with heels make me look like a midget on stilts. But that might not be such a bad thing. People love midgets.

Other day-off goals? Clean the freezer. Take down the Christmas lights. Do my laundry. Make dinner. Other totally normal adult things.