As you know I think it’s silly when people say that they don’t like birthdays or don’t want to get older. It’s better than the alternative right? But on a softer note, it’s actually ok. I promise, growing up will be alright.
My newly married friend Julie and I had a conversation about how we’ve entered this new glamorous faze of life: young professional-hood. Not that we hadn’t been a young professionals all year, but I had flown back to the nest to save money after living (probably) under the poverty line in Toronto, and she was stuck in a job she wasn’t really in love with. Now we’ve got great jobs, new places, and in my case, a shiny new bus pass (she drives a Jetta. I am jealous), and life is somehow incredibly different, new, and exciting!
And while I really, really miss my university campus (the cobblestones, drizzly fall weather, academic discussion, rain boots and patterned tights, and deadlocks and beards for as far as the eye can see…) I really like what’s happening right now. I own a couch, and I love it. It’s my very own – nobody has spilled on it, nobody has peed on it, and nobody has jumped on it. I take transit to work (rather than waking my dad up at the crack of dawn – 6:45 – and asking for a ride) and I buy my own groceries (though I’m considering giving up eating all together because food is extraordinarily pricey). It’s great. For real.
It’s nice to have that independence. Nice to look after your very own space, even if the shower is a square stall approximately only 10 centimetres wider than you are. Nice to own serving dishes and use them when friends come over. It’s really nice to browse HomeSense with your mum and choose great pints to put on the walls – and I mean hang, properly with hooks, and really committing to your space.
It’s exciting to live in this little golden youthful window of time, where you’re this mini grown-up with your own space and exciting new career, before, you know, you also have outrageous bills and a handful of adorable hyper-active kids. This phase is great. Growing up ain’t so bad.