Ah, the weekend. Two fleeting days to get everything you didn't do during the week done. This weekend I intended to clean my house...again...but never actually made it to the cleaning stage. I'm going to have to hire a maid, I swear. It's not that I'm a slob. It's just that there's a certain amount of mess that I'm willing to tolerate before I'm compelled to clean it up.
I did however put the finishing touches on the garden, hacking out all the withered growth, collecting wilted flowertops for next year's crop, getting all the good dirt from my small pots in one spot, heaping together all the compostables behind the shed. I even painted two of my tires. I've still got a lot of work before next year's growing season, not least is the construction of a fence and more garden beds.
I feel like Oskar Schindler with my garden beds. "More, more, more!"
Beyond that, my Mom came over with a year's supply of toilet paper (CostCo is good for such things) and my birthday present, which this year is an all expenses paid trip to a "spiritual intuitive." She's been a few times and has been surprised at how on the psychic...er, sorry, spiritual intuitive was. Last time she went, she asked about me and the psychic...er, spiritual intuitive, I mean, said that I was in line to meet a perky girl and that it might involve settling down, maybe, and some kids.
Of course, my response upon hearing this news was, "I need a name and a phone number." But apparently this information isn't available in the spiritual nether.
I'm skeptical, of course, regarding most psychics as a cross between the Amazing Kreskin and Carnac, but it should be interesting.
And yes, my birthday is this week. It's always a mere two weeks after Halloween, and nearly always depressing. Unlike most people, I find the last two months of the year to be a downer, not least because of its filled with holidays like Halloween, my birthday (a holiday for me), Thanksgiving, Christmas, yadda yadda yadda.
First of all, it's winter. Winter is depressing. The days are short, the air is cold, the colors are gray and dull. I don't like it. If I were independently wealthy, you wouldn't see me this time of year. I'd be in Brazil, soaking up the rays, or down in Australia putting another shrimp on the barbie. Somewhere in the southern hemisphere, somwhere warm, with plants growing and lots of unfiltered sunlight.
The other thing is all the holidays. Halloween lost its luster for me a couple years ago, when I was brutally dumped a few days afterwards. Ever since then, when the leaves start turning and the pumpkins come out, it takes me back to that time and let me just say its not a pleasant journey. This year my only form of celebration was going to a haunted house, and while that was fun, that was enough Halloween for me. I didn't dress up, didn't go to any parties, didn't even buy candy for the little ones.
I also had to work, which is also why Thanksgiving and Christmas are also on my shit list. It's been several since I've had either of those holidays off, and this year will be no different. You can't really enjoy Thanksgiving dinner knowing you have to eat up and then go to work. It's actually depressing. Same for Christmas.
As for my birthday. Blah. I'm turning 30 this year, which I hear can actually be done without a certain amount of self-examination, but me being me, I'm not letting this milestone pass without a good hard look at myself. I'm nowhere near where I thought I'd be when I turned 30.
My book, unfinished. All the stories I have swirling in my head, unwritten. My personal life, practically nonexistant since starting this bizzaro world schedule. I'm not saying I wish I was married with children, but I thought I'd at least have a girlfriend. I need to quit smoking and the sooner the better. I still haven't made it overseas. Still haven't gone to Macchu Picchu. So many dreams, yet unfulfilled.
And while turning 30 doesn't mean the end of these dreams, they do serve as a healthy reminder that hey, ten years is shorter than you think and you better get on it, buddy.