You rocked my world.
A weary traveler
You took me to Minneapolis where I saw perdy colors, heard northern accents (don’t ya know), enjoyed the crisp air of a Midwest fall, and enjoyed the hidden gems of the city.
You flew me to Indiana for a whirlwind visit full of prospective students. And brief coffee dates.
You sent our first snowfall…which killed any hope of colored leaves in November. Whyyyyyy?
You brought one of my dearest friends to me from across the country. Thanks for the mems.
You gifted to me the birthdays of SEVEN immediate family members. Both grandparents on both sides, my little bro, my stepdad, and señor. What a month of epic births.
You were the definition of stress, October.
And 5 days after you’ve left, I’m still hungover from your late night study fests, fall celebrations, and absolute chaos. I said you rocked my world, but I didn’t say it was all good.
Between the ring on my left hand and the man I keep seeing around my apartment, I think I’ve discovered that I am in fact still married. Poor señor and I have hardly spent quality time together lately. It’s been one weekend venture, class, assignment, paper, friend hangout after another. Date night, oh, date night. Where for art thou, date night? GET BACK IN OUR LIVES.
This is nothing new. I crave normalcy, but I hate routines. I love spontaneity, but I want to plan my days. I write out my assignments, but hate to feel confined by a schedule. Thus is the reason for my current stupor. October basically brought it all with no rest for the wicked–or those with a case of FOMO (fear of missing out). I wanted to do it all this month. So, we did. We traveled–per usual in this Armstrong home. We went on late-night excursions with friends. We tried delicious new restaurants. We were impulsive. We studied like good grad students. We soaked up all October had to offer.
And now, I want my life back. Like, I actually WANT to go to the grocery store so I can eat home-cooked meals. I will even go in the morning, dressed in workout clothes with no intention of going to the gym, and push my way through aisles with the soccer moms. That is commitment. Give me a Saturday where I can lazily catch up on my TV shows like a mature, responsible grad student. Drive me into the mountains again where all I hear is the whistle of wind between the trees. Let me have a full seven days where I’m not driving to the airport.
Please help me get to the end of this month with my sanity in tact so I can confidently write:
Thanks for the rest. And the Thanksgiving weight gain.