Well, here we go. I’m in the home stretch. One month left of the roaring 20s.
As I mentioned before, while I don’t know if I’m where I thought I’d be at this age, I don’t think I ever really thought about it when I was growing up. When I was little, 18 seemed old. I didn’t really think about what I was going to do after that.
Well, 18 has come and gone. So now what? I’m fairly certain I’m supposed to be teaching. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. In high school, I dreamed about being an author. So there’s that goal. I have the best family I could ever pray for, I have fantastic friends, and I love where I live. Win, win, win.
Yet while I think I’m okay nearing 30, I will likely go through a teeny crisis as it approaches. After all, while it wasn’t in my thoughts when I was little, after 18 came and went, I did expect to be married by 30. It almost seems surreal that I’m going to be turning the big 3-0 and still be single.
But if a crisis hits, I’m going to be surrounded by reminders of the blessings of the single life. I made an intentional decision to get away for the birthday weekend and spend it with my girlfriends, footloose and fancy free.
The grand adventure to New York City is still on — although we couldn’t find a place to stay in the city within our price range, but we have at least a day trip to the city in the works. (Anyone have a spare apartment they want to loan us for the evening? yeah, I thought so.) And the cast of Downton is supposed to be roaming around the city at the same time — think Branson and Lord Grantham want to take me out for the big day? I think they should.
30 days. Here’s to the last month!