Weekends

Ever wonder what goes on in the exciting daily life of Brooke Wilson? Here's a sample of everything I've done this evening:

-Watched Detectives Benson and Stabler hunt down no less than 10 rapists and bad guys.
-Washed, dried, folded, and put away almost every single thread of clothing in the house.
-Ate leftovers for dinner. It was the same thing I ate for lunch. (Pro tip: Taco Bell nachos do not lend themselves well to being refrigerated and then reheated.)
-Lectured my dog for the umpteenth time that, yes, we have neighbors, and sometimes they go outside and get in their cars to go places, and he's just going to have to accept that without having an emotional breakdown every time he hears a noise he doesn't recognize.
-Started and deleted two different meandering, unfocused blog posts because I sounded like a whiny millennial. Just the thing my generation doesn't need one more of.

I've been reading a lot about loneliness lately, both on other friends' blogs and on online articles. My weekends can get pretty lonely. Chris works Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, taking our only reliable mode of transportation with him and stranding me at home. (We're slowly but steadily working on getting my set of wheels up and running so that doesn't happen anymore.) On nights most couples have fun dates, I'm home by myself with a grumpy, irritable Australian shepherd mix. In addition to that, most of my friends in town are either working or in a different city visiting other people on the weekends. Needless to say, I don't get out much unless Chris and I have errands to run during the day or there's a family or social outing I had planned on attending.

I don't want to complain too much. As much as I love my husband, it's sometimes nice to have the house to myself and get things done without him here to distract me. And as a moderately introverted person, I appreciate my alone time when I feel like I need it. On nights when I'd rather be with other people, though, it gets kind of hard. I get stuck in this cycle of Netflix-housework-snack-repeat, even if I know I should take Moe on a walk instead, or read a book, or start a new project, or text someone on the off chance they might not be busy. Is it because I'm too complacent? I've heard that introverts tend to stick to the status quo, even if they want a change, because not changing their pattern is easy and familiar. It's also a cop out.

Eventually, I know I want to move to another city. I want a different job. I want to go on a second honeymoon. I want to see Europe. I want to have babies. I want to drive a car that was made in the 21st century and make sure it always has a full tank of gas. I want to live in a house that Chris and I bought with our own money. I want to buy groceries from the fancy, expensive part of the grocery store. I want to treat myself to a daylong shopping spree, massage, haircut, and mani/pedi without feeling guilty or anxious about it.

All those things probably won't happen in my twenties, and I realize this decade is for self-discovery and figuring out your place in the world. I'm sure most people my age feel this same way, they're just not letting on. Or they're actually doing something about it. But can you sue a girl for wishing things could be different, even if she has to be slowly persuaded to go outside and find out what that thing is herself rather than relying on wishes?

In the meantime, I guess I'll sit here in my sweatpants and fuzzy socks and try to find out if "The Croods" really deserved that Oscar nomination or not. So far, I'm not convinced.

P.S. I realize now that I did, in fact, come across as whiny after all. Oh well.