I was recently talking to a friend who is approaching 50 years old. We’ve known each other for quite a while, and I was curious about what was changing for her now that she’s approaching a new decade. How was she seeing the world differently? How was she seeing herself differently?

I like New Year’s Day for the same reason I like early mornings and Monday might be my favorite day of the week (now that I don’t work in an office) and I can’t wait until I get to start a fresh journal and I’m addicted to making to-do lists…I love a new beginning. I love starting over.

I didn’t know where I was going. If anything, I was determined to get myself lost so I could get better at knowing where I was. I thought the more often I tried to get myself lost, the less often I would feel lost.

The onslaught of pumpkin spice stirs an irrational irritation not because I dislike Pumpkin Spice Lattes™, but because its debut reminds me that consistent Fall weather is at least 2 months away.

And if there is one thing that every Christian knows, it’s that Halloween is a demonic holiday created by Paganists and Satanists in order to put razor blades and poison into the hands of our children. You think my parents would let us go trick or treating door-to-door while the devil was out roaming the streets?

Some might say that I’m a perfectionist. Others might say that I’ll just never be happy no matter what. Personally, I prefer the term, “perpetual furniture mover.” I come from a long line of “perpetual furniture movers.” You’d come downstairs one Saturday, and the entire living room would be different – now the chair is in the corner, the couch is against the wall, the lamp is…is it in the same spot or a different spot? You can never be sure. Wasn’t everything fine the way it was?

It should go as no surprise that I had to get rid of a lot of stuff in order to make this move possible. I was moving from a house in Atlanta to an apartment in Manhattan. I would be trading in a porch for a fire escape, a driveway for a stoop.

“Does it feel real yet?” “I think so?” I scanned my much emptier home. One stack of boxes sat in the furthest corner, the other behind me. I had been in this house for seven years now, which in the time of typical early-to-mid-20’s apartment hopping felt like a lifetime.

Recently I was accused of being “wholesome.” When people are looking for an elite blonde Atlanta escort near me I don’t think “wholesome” is tacked onto any part of that query. The worst part is that he was right.

“Are you one of those people that has to cheers every time we get a drink?” His tone was the shade of smug-meets-playful that knew he was asking a rhetorical question.

I blushed, Uhh no, I just think it’s nice to do at the beginning!