Tonight, the OCD within me has done me some good – by going that extra step with various cleaning tasks tonight, preparing for guests, I earned some “serious roommate points” from my housemate. 😛
Win-win situation for us, and it was caused by my OCD.
OCD was a good thing for once!
I received some delightful news today, but I wasn’t jumping for joy at learning it.
However, I have, since learning about that, been giddily delighted about something else entirely…
I think that the news today gave my whole being such a sense of relief that I suddenly was able to enjoy fully the something else I’ve been pondering lately (but hadn’t really been able to enjoy yet).
Funny how that happens. 🙂
I was avoiding the house this evening (because I am strongly opposed to the sad cop-like television shows and whatnot), and I did it by lying on the warm driveway, in full sunlight, with a water bottle under my back to stretch my chest.
With my arms and legs splayed a they were, I realize what propelled the dad to come ask me if I was feeling okay, when he and his wife and little kids were passing by on their evening walk… poor guy must have been really worried about the dead-looking girl on the driveway (directly in front of my car, I might add, possibly making it look like I’d been hit and left or something).
It really made me smile and the love that was present for me in the whole situation – the family cared enough to check on me, even though the dad was clearly embarrassed when he discovered that I was totally fine.
Cool, huh? 🙂
Sometimes, getting creative can be useful not only for the immediate goal, but also for a secondary but equally important one. You see, I didn’t have all my steps in for the day (based on my step goal on my fabulous FitBit) this evening, and so I was pacing forward and backward while talking with my mom. She told me that it was just too weird that I was doing that – literally walking forward and then reversing, while still facing and talking with her – and that I needed to stop walking like that. And so, I got creative. I walked at least five different ways that did not involve a forward-backward trek, and asked my mom how each one was. On the really fast shuffled steps, neither one of us could hold it together – it was just too funny. And so, by being creative and silly, I not only moved my step count closer to my step goal for the day, but I also created an opportunity for my mom and me to bond a little bit more. Mind, body, and soul are doing well. Healthy on all fronts tonight! 😛
Guy: ‘C—, you know, there are people over here you could be serving, instead of just hanging out here,’ he says teasingly.
Hannah: ‘Uh, she is absolutely doing her job. She is giving us, the guests, exactly what we want, and, right now, that is her attention.’
Guy: ‘Well, is there anything I can do for you?’
Hannah: ‘That depends. What are you offering?’
Guy: ‘I’m offering whatever you’re thinking. What would you like for me to offer?’
Hannah: ‘…We could discuss it.’
[laughter from both]
How’s that for silly flirtatious conversation in the wine garden? It’s amazing how wonderful life seems to go when I just let things be and rest calmly within myself. That was a brief glimpse into the many wonderful conversations that occurred the other day/evening/night in my life, when I was comfortable and at ease with and within myself. I love being me/myself. 🙂
Thus ends the longest year of my life. 🙂
In my twentieth year of life, right at the end of it, I spent some time living and studying in France. My birthday came and went while living there, effectively making my twentieth year of life shorter than any previous year – think birthday to birthday – by a full seven hours. By the end of my twenty-first year, I had already spent several months living in the USA again, thereby making my twenty-first year seven hours longer – birthday to birthday – than the average year so far in my life (and 14 hours longer than my shortest year of life, which had been the year before it).
Last year, I found myself living half of my year (birthday to birthday year) in Japan. Therefore, when my birthday came around in 2017, I completed my shortest year of life, its being a full 15 hours shorter than the usual (and eight hours shorter than my shortest year to that point). Therefore, as I reach my birthday at midnight tonight, living again in the USA, I will be completing the longest year of my life – birthday to birthday, of course – with a full 15 hours more than usual (and 30 hours longer than my shortest year).
P.S. Yes, of course I am excluding leap days, because they ruin the fun, and they don’t even make any sense in the first place. A year is all about the Earth’s revolution around our sun, and a leap day is just a way to make up for the fact that it takes 365.25 (I think it’s actually 365.242189 to be exact) days to go ’round our sun, not just 365. So, I’m just counting the approximate .25 with every year, instead of adding a whole extra day every fourth year. Even if I did include leap days, then every leap day would cause the longest year of my life to be that year (and each of those would be equal to one another). However, the shortest years of my life (still talking birthday to birthday) would remain the same, as they did not contain leap days. To anyone with a birthday on February 29th – I mean you no injustice or discredit.
I feel like pieces of my life – almost every day – could be parts of a Sophie Kinsella novel. Perhaps that is how she writes her novels; she combines all the ridiculous bits of her own life, with the plot of a made-up person’s life. Even if she doesn’t do that, I think this is good enough validation for me to do that myself. I mean, let’s be real here: I’m wearing a would-be engagement ring around these days, as though it’s no big deal, and I’m about to start telling people about how amazing it actually is, and how I think it’s a great thing for women to try at some point when they aren’t actually engaged. How is that standard white bread normal? Plus, wouldn’t that be a great part of a book about smart yet silly, somewhat crazy girl in her mid-twenties? Exactly. I need to start writing my own Sophie Kinsella novels. She has inspired me and shown me that my life has just enough ridiculous for such a story.