I turned 39 today. I was expecting to take stock of my life and come to some sort of realization about it but my brain decided that right in the middle of breakfast would be a good time for a massive migraine. I get these a lot now so I called in sick to work and set up an appointment with the walk-in clinic where I eventually got some sort of uber-drug.
Apparently migraines are caused by chocolate, coffee, alcohol, and citrus fruits. Basically, all my favourite things. And stress. Welcome to middle age. The left knee hurts when I take the stairs and everything in my life now causes my brain to explode from time to time.
I thought I would be a little more grown-up by now. I never did buy that house (you’re supposed to, at some point, apparently) and will likely never retire rich. It seems I should be a little more middle-class than I actually am but Montreal has always made me feel that I don’t quite measure up, that there are things I just didn’t do that I should have. That said, even if I did own property, I can’t imagine anyone being interested in how I fought for my great mortgage rate or my latest battles with the contractor I paid to put in my new pool. Yet, those are actual conversations at my office. This what you talk about, when you’re grown up.
But it does seem that my true adult life didn’t start until this century. If what I have now were to fall in my lap in my twenties, I would have surely screwed it up. So I guess things do happen for a reason and they’ll happen when they’re supposed to.
This evening, as I ate the strawberry shortcake birthday cake that Kerry had made for me and helped James eat his, I knew that I was doing at least a few things right and everything I wanted was right there in that kitchen.
Because that’s where my new panini press is.