u s e y o u r h a n d s

That’s how I’ve been feeling. And it’s weird.

Do most people have this moment, where they realize that they’re racking up frequent flier miles in life? Does it show on my face yet? Because my hands are looking older. Thanks, drywall. And dishes. And everything else.

I’m starting a new job on Monday. I’ll be working downtown like a real grownup. And I’ll wear grownup clothes. The days of flip-flops and pajamas at work are so over.

And, all this is going on while I’m engaged and shit. My chosen life partner is at home, actually, sleeping off a nasty ass cold in the next room. He is not perfect, of course. But he’s totally perfect for me. I’m pretty sure about him, and that’s as good as you can get without a crystal ball.

I feel good about it, though. Plus, I’m very very excited about the burlesque show. Besides from being crazily attractive, they’re all equisitely kind. I feel cute and talented amongst them. But not so cute as to stop practicing my act. That’ll be me up there with the fake money. Hot-cha.

Tomorrow is my last day of weekday freedom. It’s been nice. And I’ll fucking miss it. But I have fun “working-girl lunches and after-work drinks,” just like Rachael mentioned in my comments the other day. And that’s pretty good, too.

Come to the show. Tell me I’m fabulous.