Thirty Two

DSC_0079[1]Last year I shared 31 little life lessons, I felt wise. This year I half considered a thirty two things you may want to know about me at aged thirty two kind but I couldn’t write it through my cringeing scrunched up face. It just felt like the worst kind of self indulgence, no no and thrice no. I stepped away from the computer and sat in the corner for a while pondering the wasting away of my narcissistic soul.

Seriously, this is how that started:

  1. I have size three feet. They’re like hooves.
  2. I cannot sing. No way. No how.
  3. The last book I read from start to finish was The Genius of Dogs.

I got to three and ran out of stuff. Turns out I’m really very dull and sort of predictable. And does anyone in the world really give a rats arse that I can’t hold a tune? Awww hell no they don’t.

I’m also apparently a bit repetitive, I already used the feet thing yesterday.

So instead I’ll spend my 32nd birthday adventuring with my pack (and husband) whilst thinking about all the things I have to be grateful for at the ripe old age of 32. Loving and being loved, having a home of my own, a bunch of good friends, a mind that is relatively healthy and a growing disregard for the opinions of others – it’s ridiculously freeing, try it. It’s ok to be grateful for your little existence, to recognise that life is pretty damn special every single day.

It is of course also ok to strive for more. It’s pretty much ok whatever you choose to be in the world. As long as what you choose is not garrotting as a hobby. Own yourself.

Wishing you the happiest of Thursdays, you can all have the day off in my honour. Probably. As long as you’ve gone through the appropriate channels and have sufficient annual leave left please and thank you.

What are you grateful for today?

The Kindness of Strangers
Judged By A Spaniel