Routine

It's time to start getting back into a routine. Do you hear it? Listen carefully . . . it's wailing in Michigan. It's me, crying my eyes out, because I need to get back into a routine. Of Jen going to sleep at the same time, in the same way, every night. Schedule. Clockwork. UGH.

And while there is comfort in a routine, there is comfort for this rebel-at-heart in not having one. No more deciding it's time to go hunting fireflies. No more late-night runs to get ice cream just because. (Does that explain the size of my butt?) And it is a sad, sad day when I need to admit that I'm a grown-up and that routine is good. And this grown-up gig? Highly overrated. That's all I'm saying. (Can I just say that I was carded TWICE this summer? I think I scared both people with my "I love you!" reaction . . . particularly the waitress.)

So here's to a manic Monday, when the weight of the world crashes down on you and makes you realize that indeed, you are a grown-up. With responsibilities. And routine is your friend. Yeah, right.