Since I never have a man in my bed, there are two times in life when I am extra diligent about having clean sheets and laundry. (Calm down, I wash things regularly, but I'm talking off-schedule, hyper aware here. I understand hygiene.) 1. When I go on vacation, and 2. the New Year.
The first is because there is nothing that kills a vacation buzz faster than coming home to a shithole. When I leave, unless I'm flying out the door for an emergency, I take the time to do laundry, make the bed, put things away. I come home to the calm of a tidy place, confident that the only things out of place will be my mail and gifts my sister leaves. (More mail than gifts WHICH IS WEIRD, TWIN.) Plus, there is room for my unpacked suitcase to hang out for days at a time once I return. Bonus.
The second is because I believe in fresh starts. Some people call it voodoo, but I like starting a new year clean, dressed, and with my shit in order, figuratively speaking. I think the way you spend NYE can cast a shadow on your year, and you probably don't but that's cool. Believe whatever you like, right? I think if you spend the dawn of a new year in your sweats getting embarrassingly piss drunk by yourself, you're telling the universe that's cool, that's how you roll. I don't tempt fate, guys. I don't care about going to big parties or anything, I just care about who I surround myself with--it's always good people.
What this all comes down to is that when I left on Christmas night, things were in order around here--that is to say, my belongings were in order. I can't say the same about my affairs. (So to speak.)
2012 was a big year for me. A scary one. I never told you, but I made a big decision during the summer. I spent a lot of time thinking it over and figuring out the right thing to do. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. All that thinking resulted in me quitting my job at the end of the summer. It might have been foolish, but I haven't regretted it once since. I love a lot about my profession, and I'll always want to be involved in it in some way, but it's not where my heart is. My career was too young to deal with being unhappy with the whole system. (And I was on the verge of spending a lot of money on a masters degree for it.) So, I took a leap...and resigned.
I have no idea what's next. That's partly terrifying and partly thrilling. A friend referred to me as Mary Poppins for twenty-somethings. I am actually madly in love with the thought. I've decided that it's going to help form my 2013...that's how I'm going to do things. It'll be all What Would Mary Poppins Do? over here, until I have a better idea. Get ready. I'll let you know what's next. Any ideas?