Living the dream. No, for serious.

Babycakes, I had a revelation. Luckily it wasn’t painful. BUT! I want to tell you all about it.

So back when I was dating THE EX and things weren’t going so great, I used to go to my happy place. And it wasn’t a literal place (obvi, because who’s got time to drive out somewhere random and commune with nature?!), it was a place in my head. I would just imagine it and feel so much better, able to handle what life threw at me. So basically, when stuff got bad in the relationship, I would keep myself sane by imagining moving out. Crazy right? *eye roll* Well, it went further than that. I would imagine what my life would be like as a single woman, where I would live, what my days would be full of, etc. Then the other day I was shredding cabbage or slicing leeks, or sautéing spinach or some other random act that I’m pretty sure my roommates find disgusting and I realized I’M LIVING IN MY FUCKING HAPPY PLACE. Holy shit! How did that happen? For serious, let me break it down.

Ok, so when I was lying in bed next to the ex, listening to Norah Jones on my fauxIpod, imagining moving out, in my head I always saw myself moving into a house with lots of window and hardwood floors and a back yard for DogFace to run around in. My house (yeah and it’s a pretty bad ass house) has a shit ton of windows in the living room and kitchen (I kind of wish I had spend more time thinking about my dream kitchen. Because really it’s my only complaint about my place; the kitchen is wee and has, literally, half a foot of counter space. But whatevs, it’s my [and my roommates’] kitchen and that’s amazeballs) and hardwood fucking floors!!!!!!

I also used to imagine that I would be super awesome and domestic at my new place and while I was chopping shit in the kitchen irl (because in my happy place, I didn’t go out to eat, I cooked) and listening to Ella Fitzgerald Radio (because lets be honest, I’ve got badass taste in music) THE Norah Jones song came on. You know, this one:

And my inner self, went, “Holy shit, that’s the song you would listen to as you imagined living on your own!!” I think its good to note that my inner self curses as much as my outer self. Consistency is key.

I don’t know why it took me so fucking long to figure it out (or why a Norah Jones song triggered it) but I’ve got what I wanted when I was in an unhappy relationship:

  1. Some of the best friends in the world. (I would expand on this more, but I’m pretty sure that it would take a light-hearted blog post into a serious one and nobody wants that, but know I adore you guys)
  2. The best dog EVAR. Seriously look at that face.

    I need to be this close, ALL THE TIME

    I need to be this close, ALL THE TIME

  3. An awesome house (you’d think this would be higher since I rambled about it for most of the post, right?)
  4. The chance to work out on a semi regular basis if I feel like it.
  5. Beer Tuesdays and Knitting Thursdays and occasionally Crafting Saturdays and Pot Luck Sundays. (Gah that all sounds so innocent and wholesome. Don’t worry, there is almost always alcohol involved and at least one of those days, I can guarantee there is a conversation about anal fisting.)
  6. The chance to figure out what makes ME happy.
  7. A solid job (yeah it’s not super exciting, but it pays the bills)
  8. A chance to explore new creative out lets. Like painting pictures while drinking wine. I feel classy and artistic all at the same time, I totally recommend it.
  9. A chance to write this blog, because let’s be honest, it’s pretty sweet tits.

So, now I have to work on figuring out what I want next in life. I’m thinking its time to become the Intergalactic Space Princess. Yep. And there better be a fucking tiara.

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