Just Write #229 — From beers to bookshelves to puppies

On a warm summer evening, Dan and I were having a beer on the patio of a local brewery and he was trying to figure out how to edit his apartment listing on Facebook Marketplace. I tried to help and ended up saying I was interested in some bookshelves that were for sale. I wasn’t first in line and figured it was no big deal. But then the lady contacted me the next day and asked if I wanted them and I felt bad so I said yes, and then we were on our way to Girard to pick up shelves I didn’t really need, but figured we could find a use for them.

When we got out of the truck, a black dog, younger and skinnier than Sam came running around the house. She was adorable and we learned she was an 18-month=old flat-coated retriever from a breeder in Edinboro. We love the flat-coat breed because that’s what we think Sam is and he is the best dog ever. So I immediately followed the breeder on Facebook. There, I learned they had just bred their female again.

I’ve never had two dogs in my life but, lately, the idea of losing Sam, who is 10, has been on my mind and I thought maybe I should get another dog before he dies so that he can help raise the puppy …and it might actually be good for him as he’d definitely get more exercise.

When the puppies were born and photos/videos posted on Facebook, I was smitten and we filled out the 10-page application to adopt one. Then, I learned they were more than $3K and I was like…ummmm…wow. I just didn’t know if I could do that.

So I googled “flat-coated retriever rescue” and Hadley popped up, standing in blue baby pool, dripping wet and clearly happy. She was a four-month-old flat-coat/lab retriever mix from a kill shelter in Alabama who had been rescued by a group in Union City. Her foster mom said she loved water and other dogs. She was high energy, loved to run and go for walks, and she was OK with cats. It was like she was waiting for us — runners with a dog and a pool and woods (with a creek) who love to walk and run and hike.

I filled out an application and we arranged to see her on a Sunday afternoon. She. Was. Adorable. And, so loving and sweet. And, yes, FULL of energy, too.

A week later, she arrived for a two-week trial, and we were reminded how much work puppies are. And, yet, this dog! She’s so very, very sweet. Given the opportunity she will climb right into your lap, she frequently rests her head in my lap even when I’m ….ahem….in the bathroom. When I pet her, she often falls to the ground and rolls right over for belly rubs. She follows me around like a shadow and when she does settle down and rest, it’s always near me.

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For the first few days, we crated her at night and when we went to work because she’s not quite potty trained, but just like with Sam, that didn’t last long before we tried leaving her out for short periods, usually contained to the kitchen/dining room area.

I once had a firm no-dogs-in-the-bedroom rule, but Sam’s been sneaking in and sleeping on the floor next to Dan’s side of the bed for a few months, so now Hadley has claimed the floor next to my side of the bed. At night, when I can’t sleep, I reach down and finger the soft fur on her ears while she snores. And I think about how she’s there because I accidentally bought some bookshelves I didn’t need.

Life is so weird.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

 

Just Write #228 ~ Awestruck

On the mornings that I run I can “sleep in” till 6 a.m., but I forgot to reset my alarm so it went off at 5:30 a.m., which is my going-to-the-gym wake up time. I hit snooze, and laid back down, but then Dan came in with his phone flashlight on, looking around for his work truck keys.

He was swearing at this point, and he doesn’t usually swear, so I decided I may as well get up and help him look because, I mean, he is a man and I’m just saying…..

Did you check your pants from yesterday? Did you have a coat on? A hoodie? You were in the garage when I got home. Are they in the garage? On one of the outdoor tables? In the ignition? 

Yes. No. No. He checked all those places.

I scan the kitchen and dining room with my eagle/mom eye. I can spot things out of place pretty quickly, which is funny because nobody else in my house seems to notice the couch pillows askew or stuffing from the dog toy littering the carpet, or cups on the end table. But, I digress…

I go out to the garage. Again, scanning every surface he might have set the key on. Nothing.

“I found it,” he finally yells from the back porch. “Oliver was sitting on it.”

I laugh. Leave it to fat boy to park his furry, ample rump on whatever is on his favorite sleeping spot — a padded bench by the door.

Since I’m up, I get my running clothes and reflective vest on and head out early. It’s brisk — cold even — and clear. My all-time favorite kind of running weather.

I start running in my driveway and don’t even make it to the neighbor’s house before the sky stops me in my tracks.

Wow.

I pause my music and my run and stand there staring up, awestruck. It’s so dark and there are so many stars and it’s so clear that I can see the Milky Way.

I try to take a photo, but it’s just black, of course. I can’t capture and save it. I can only experience it in the moment.

I open Snapchat and tell the girls to go look at the sky, if they are up.

Fifteen minutes later, Lauren snaps me back: “I’ll have to go look.”

I type back “Too late, you missed it. Too light out now.”

I’d have missed it, too, had I left fifteen minutes later. Had Dan not tossed his keys on the bench. Had the cat not napped with nary a care right on top of them.

I read once that feeling awe may be the secret to health and happiness, and having been on dozens (hundreds?) of awe-inspiring runs, routes, etc. over the past two decades, I have to agree.  While I used to run to achieve certain goals or lose weight (keep it off), now, after all these years, it’s really about two things: being with friends (when I can) and being in nature. I won’t run on a treadmill or on an indoor track. If I can’t be outside, I’m not going.

I’m forever making my running friends stop and appreciate some tree or bird or landscape or sunset/rise or insect/reptile/animal.

“Guys, wait….look at that line of trees with the snow on them.  Look, you can see fish right there. Wait…what is that? OMG, look at how big that grasshopper is!” 

For me, running is no longer about the run itself, but about the journey and what I can learn, think about, see, or discover along the way.

I’m grateful for the opportunities running presents me with to be awestruck. Makes all the sweat, blisters, and lost minutes of sleep worth it.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #227 ~ Math minded

Early on in my education (first or second grade maybe?), I took a standardized test in school that influenced the rest of my life. It said that I had a high aptitude for reading and writing and low aptitude for math. I took this to mean: You will always suck at math, so don’t kill yourself trying, just take the easiest way through it and focus on reading and writing.

Look, I’m Gen X and it was the ’80s and that’s just how we rolled (how we still roll). We’re not known for trying too hard or giving too many F@#$%s about a lot of things. And it was fine.

So, I skated through high school and, later, college, taking consumer math, business math, and computer classes, which in the 1990s counted as math credits in college. Yes, it was a magical time for math haters.

I’d argue that those classes served me well. I can balance a checkbook and calculate interest and expertly operate all the Microsoft programs and type paragraphs without ever looking at the keyboard.  But I’ve always felt a bit of shame in having no concept — none whatsoever — of algebra or advanced math.

In fairness though, I can’t say I’ve ever needed it and I’ve been gainfully employed as a marketing specialist/publications coordinator/writer for 35+ years now, so it begs the question: Just how valuable are these math skills if I’ve gotten to age 50 without needing them?

But then I decided to apply for grad school and if I know anything about academia after having worked in it for the last 11 years, it’s that they pay attention to details and are likely to notice a lack of, ahem, mathematics in my transcripts.

I don’t KNOW this yet because — irony — the writer who has worked on deadline all of her life, missed the deadline for fall admission for grad school (oops!), so I don’t know if I will get in. But in anticipation of being told that I need to make up some math credits, I figured I may as well take a class this semester.

The admin for the grad program that I applied for suggested I take statistics if I haven’t taken it at the undergrad level before I get throw into a graduate level statistics class. Um…k. So, what if I never had it ever?

I asked a friend who is a Secondary Mathematics Education professor: Hey….so….could I pass a stats class if I’ve never had algebra?

“Well, algebra is a prerequisite to take stats, so no,” she said.  Well, shit.

So that’s how I — a 50-year-old mom — ended up in Math 4 (elementary algebra) four days later with two dozen 18- to 22-year-olds. Did I feel out of place? Sure. But I’ve got a lifetime of experience with that, and rule No. 1 is to own it. So, I went all in:

It was clear from day one that I’m far behind the other students who are familiar with the terminology and basics of algebra. It’s all new to me. All of it.  After every class, I have a list of things in my notebook that I need to look up later (“What is square root and how to do you find it?” “How to turn fraction into a decimal?”).

I not only do the assigned homework, but I do ALL the problems like any good (read: annoying) adult student does. I have also discovered that it’s super helpful to review the material AHEAD of class, so I at least have some understanding of the topic before the instructor teaches it. Again…an annoying over-achiever adult student move, but it helps flatten my learning curve.

I work on math almost every night now and OMG….you guys, I think I like it.

*mind explodes*

It’s a “fun” change of pace for me. It’s nice to have black and white answers – concrete right and wrong – follow the rules or you will not arrive at the one right answer.

Nothing else I do in my life/career is like that. Surely not parenting and definitely not writing. Sure, there are grammar and style “rules” but…I break them all the time and call it creative license (see the title of this post). Math is less forgiving, and there’s something refreshing about that.  It’s rewarding to find the right answer and to have no doubt that it is THE right answer.

We had our first exam last week, and I had prepared and studied and done 1,000 problems and did the practice test three times (I know…I even annoy myself). After the test, I wasn’t sure how it went. I thought I did well, but in math, if you miss one step or calculate one part of a problem wrong, it goes off the rails, so I anxiously waited for my results.

BTW…I did do the math and that’s an 89%. I’ll take it!

It makes me wonder what I could’ve done all these years had I not been told math wasn’t my thing …and had I not accepted that (aside: how unlike me to accept that because today if you tell me I cannot do something…watch me do it.). A recent article in Nautilus ponders the same question:

 “The concept of numerosity is one of the only high-level cognitive functions that is mapped to a specific region of the brain. In other words, we are primed to do basic math, but culture gets in the way. Recent neuroscientific, behavioral, and cognitive research could help us redesign math education so that it supports rather than undermines learning—and even inspires a love for the mysterious elegance of math along the way.”

Perhaps the problem all along wasn’t that I couldn’t do math, but that I thought I couldn’t do it.

Watch me now.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #226 ~ Life in the slow lane

I feel guilty that I rarely post anything of substance on this blog anymore. Do you know that I’ve been blogging in one form or another since 2004? That’s nearly twenty years. It started with Life and Her Times at the Erie Times-News way back when blogging was new.

For the first decade or so, it was fun.  Lately, it feels like a grind. Just another thing to check off the to-do list.

And, yes, I often do put “write JW?” on my to-do list and then I ignore it until it’s Tuesday night and I’m like…welp, maybe next week….and I cross it off my list.

Is the well dry? I don’t think so…I think it’s just that I have less of a life to mine for content these days. My kids are grown adults, and they don’t do all the cute things they used to do or say all the funny things they used to say and they have grown up lives with grown up problems and sharing those on a public blog will definitely get me in trouble.

My own life is slower, too. I do less things. Rush around less. Some of that is because the busy days of parenting are behind me. I don’t need to drive kids anywhere or go to school events or swim meets or volunteer for activities. Some of the slowness is intentional. I don’t want to hustle anymore. I’ve been turning down freelance work that’s not worth the money for the hours I would have to put into it. I’ve made more time for reading — giving myself permission to just sit and read. (I used to do most of my reading while walking on a treadmill.) I’ve already read 26 books this year.

I’m trying to be more kind to myself, more gentle with my body. It has to last me a while yet. Running full speed ahead for years on end takes a toll.

I like my slower life. It’s peaceful.

But, yeah, it’s definitely not good blog fodder.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #225 ~ Sometimes love hurts

Kelly agreed to pet sit my brother- and sister-in-law’s dog when they went out of town for a few days last weekend, forgetting that she had her own pets to sit — a mamma cat and three kittens she and her roommate are fostering for a local animal shelter.

Seeing my opportunity to get my hands on those cute little balls of fluff for a long weekend, I happily suggested she bring the whole brood over to grandmas and we could put them up in the combo office/craft/classroom space.

As you can see, I hated it:

I loved them a lot. They didn’t love me as much and I’ve got the bloody scratches on my chest and neck to prove it. I regret nothing. It was a small price to pay to smother those cute little fuzzy faces with kisses.  Love hurts, right?

I forgot how obnoxious kittens are, even more so when there are three. You would never think those tiny little bodies and paws could make so much noise, but when we were in the kitchen, we knew when they were up and active because they sounded like galloping horses, punctuated by the occasional crash of something else they managed to knock over or down.

I just laughed.

They played in the litter box like it was a sandbox, and then tracked all the strewn-about litter grit throughout both rooms. They hissed at Sam, overturned every bin in the room, and stole my chair every time I got up.

I took photos and wrote funny social media posts.

I tried (in vain) to snuggle them, fed them rotisserie chicken, and spent a good portion of my weekend playing with them and trying to make them love me back (in vain). I regret nothing.

Even though they were kind of annoying and a lot of work and pretty ungrateful, I miss them now.

I suppose it’s a glimpse at what grandparenting will be like some day. But, hopefully, with fewer bloody scratches.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #224 ~ Heartbreaking truths

Among the greatest surprises of my adult life is that I would take my daughter’s breakups as hard (maybe harder) than they do. I could not be more surprised by this as I’m a person who, as a rule, does not get attached. There are few people in my life I can’t/haven’t/wouldn’t walk away from and be just fine.

I have always considered that a point of pride (I’m an independent woman…yeah, b****), but I’m learning now that it’s actually an attachment disorder. Um…I guess. Probably?

I don’t recall ever being all that upset about any of my own breakups over the years, with the exception of the first “real” boyfriend. That one hurt for years. But, I’m sitting here trying to even remember his last name right now. So….I mean…there you go. Proof that time heals all wounds. And, apparently, it steals your memory too, so it all kinda works out in the end.

But…yeah, it takes time.

In talking with a running girlfriend about it the other day, I said:  “You know, all it’s going to take for her to forget he exists is another person to show interest.”

“See, but, that makes me so sad,” she said. “Why does she need anyone to like her, you know? She’s amazing and funny and smart and so cute. Why does she need a boyfriend?”

“Right? And, frankly, I can think of a hundred things more worthy of that time and energy for her.”

But my running girlfriend and I are old enough to know that now. To know that the great American Dream we are sold (big house, nice car, in-ground pool), the fulfillment to be found in a soulmate, and the absolute joy and sense of purpose to be found in parenting is mostly another fantastical fabrication of our culture. Say it enough and people start to think it’s true, even if it’s absurd and makes no sense  and everyone knows it’s false (Trump 101).

There may be people who find all that in a spouse and kids and a McMansion in the ‘burbs, but it’s my experience that most middle age women are in some form of hell of their own making. Because it’s what is expected of us.

College degree. Car. Spouse. House. Career. Kids.

It’s a constant treadmill of accomplishments and acquisitions. Check. Next step. Check. Next step. Check. We’re so busy (busy, busy, busy) moving forward that we never stop (who has time?!) to think about where we are going or why or if it’s anything we actually even want. We just know that’s what we should want/do/be.

I love my husband, my kids, my home, my job…and yet, I can acknowledge that all of these things also drain the life out of me. They are a ton of work.

I tell my girls a lot: Think carefully about marriage and kids and if that’s something you really want because what it comes with is an entire lifetime of work. You will be taking care of others until the day you die. It never ends.

When you think about it, marriage is not a great deal for women who, today, can mostly provide for themselves. The husband gets someone to take care of them, bear and raise the children, bring in half the household income, keep track of everything, do the shopping, clean the house, have sex with, and cook them food. The wife gets um, let’s see….*checks notes*….financial security and his love. Maybe. As long as she doesn’t get fat. Or old. Or turn bitter and angry. Or let herself go.

I mean….have we really thought this through, ladies?

I suppose it’s just that kind of thinking that is scaring the ever-loving shit out of the far right/conservatives who are working every day—every damn day—to control women and silence anyone and anything that threatens the status quo. They have a lot to lose if we stop living for the attention and approval of men.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write # 223~ Spotlight on shame

I’ve often wondered why I feel the need to tell everyone everything all of the time. I tend to overshare, not about cringe-y stuff…at least not on a public blog (well…sometimes…).

More than a few times, I’ve told myself I need to stop sharing and I’ll refrain from posting on social media and only write about comfortable or cute things on the blog. But, as much as I admire those super-private people who rarely talk about themselves or their life, it’s just not me and, I end up falling back into my old ways sooner or later. It’s just my nature.

Recently, I was listening to an episode of Armchair Expert with shame expert, Brene Brown who said: “Shame cannot live in light. Once you bring it out into the light, it loses it’s power over you.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? It’s about unburdening myself (wait…is this why Catholics like confession? Huh…) and ALSO about letting other people who aren’t brave (or stupid) enough to share all their shit know that they are not alone.  You may not say it, or admit it, or talk about it, but I see you. You’re safe with me. And, I’ll talk about the things you can’t. I’ll just say the stuff nobody will say that needs to be brought to light.

The freedom in being as honest as I am about my life (and there is stuff you don’t know, but probably little that my closest running girlfriends don’t know) is that you can’t really use it against me, right? What are you going to say about me or tell others that I haven’t already posted, shared photos of, and wrote a blog post about?  You can come at me with your worst criticism, but I probably already know it and wrote about it somewhere, so…  How you going to hurt me now?

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #222 ~ Jada

I wonder if it were anyone else but Will Smith if I’d have felt differently. Violent, angry men prone to storming on stage to hit another man is a big red flag. I don’t like out of control, angry dudes exhibiting classic toxic masculinity.

But, then I learned the why….and I watched the video and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jada.

There’s a reason a woman’s hair is called their “crowning glory” and I can’t fathom what it must be like to have to come to terms with alopecia, but I definitely know what it’s like to be a woman trying to live up to impossible beauty standards.

I know what it’s like to stand in a closet or bathroom and weep when nothing looks right on you.

I know what it’s like to be so self conscious about your outfit or your weight or your hair that you are one small comment from falling apart.

I know what it’s like to muster up every single ounce of confidence you have to walk into a room where you know you will feel/be judged.

I can picture Jada getting ready for the Oscars. Putting on a gorgeous dress, makeup, heels, and deciding to go bravely bald.

And then some asshole makes fun of her in front of the entire world, literally.

And her husband who loves her and has no doubt — no doubt — been a witness to the tears and the pain and the courage and strength of his wife, lost his shit. Who can blame him?

After everything she’s been through, after watching her struggle to accept the unacceptable and still feel beautiful, I can’t fault him for standing up and doing what a woman could never do — hit back.

I never liked Will Smith more. He’s a husband defending his wife, reacting to her pain by making the one who hurt her hurt.

But, it seems the world is focused on how wrong it was for him to hit a guy who was just making a “joke.” Just doing his job. Just being “funny.”

Maybe we should talk about how making fun of others is not funny, and it never has been. Roast-type humor is not only awkward and cringy. It’s cruel and it’s mean and we’re supposed to find the humor in it?

Fuck that.

Don’t say shitty things about women and you won’t get hit.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #221 ~ It’s me

The more I learn about ADHD, the more I know exactly where Lauren got it from.

It’s me. All me.

And there are so many things that now make sense to me when viewed through the ADHD lens.

It’s why I hated the mall as a child and would always leave there with a headache. It was sensory overload. It was hard to take it all in and my brain is ALWAYS taking it all in – all of it. (Attention deficit disorder is a misnomer — the problem is more that we pay attention to everything…or try to.)

It’s why I hated school. I found it insanely boring, though pretty easy. Once I decided I wanted to go to college and I needed the grades to go there, I had no trouble earning them. It’s as if I finally “applied myself.” What really happened was that I had a reason to do it. I don’t do well with pointless shit. They thought I was stupid. I knew I wasn’t.

It’s why I find small talk and parties — particularly those with people I don’t know very well — intolerable. I am the one that never RSVPs because I want to keep my options open. I’m frequently a no-show (or late) and when I do go, I find small talk excruciating.

It’s why I can spend hours upon hours falling down rabbit holes and procrastinating, then write an entire 1,000-word story in an hour (and it’s good). Hyperfocus is a serious superpower.

It’s probably why I have always been able to easily read a room/people. Body language, tone of voice, word choice, gestures — the clues about what’s going on with you and why are so obvious to me that sometimes it’s overwhelming. (That’s probably why I keep most people at arm’s length.) I can spot a lie/liar a mile away. I can see your insecurities. I can tell when you don’t like your outfit, yourself, me…

It’s why I have so many questions. About everything. All of the time. My curiosity is insatiable. Google is probably the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.

It’s why I’m easily frustrated/impatient. Let’s GOOOOOOOOO!

It’s why I can never just sit and relax and why I talk/share too much.

It’s why I was suited to the newspaper business. Interview/research, write, edit, proof, check the layout. It’s on the press four hours later and we are MOVING on…. What’s next?

I didn’t know anyone with ADHD (a diagnosis anyway) when I was a child. Of course I knew hyperactive boys — the kind who were always obnoxious/annoying and getting into trouble and getting paddled in the hallway (yep, teachers could hit you back then). But, girls? Definitely not.

So I didn’t have a diagnosis or information about ADHD or medication to “manage” it. I’m not sure I ever needed it though. It all turned out fine. 

I did what most Gen X kids did, I adapted, came up with workarounds, and hid what I couldn’t fix but knew I needed to keep in check.

There are hallmarks of ADHD that I definitely do not possess: I’m not impulsive. I am a planner. I’m fairly good at time management. I am organized to the nth degree.

I think becoming extremely organized was my workaround. I am a lover of lists and bullet journals and the “notes” app on my phone. I write everything down and I carry most of it with me all the time.

License plate number? Netflix login? Mom’s wifi password? Library card #? Blood type of every member of my family? Hold on…got it right here.

You should see my email inboxes: I have a system. If you are the kind (like my daughters) who leave every email they have ever received in their inbox, I can’t even look. Leave me alone with it and I will start deleting shit and making folders. I can’t help it. Clutter makes me crazy. 

My mind and the way that it works is a blessing and a curse. It’s my biggest problem and my greatest strength. 

It’s just me.  It’s all me.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

Just Write #220 ~ Eye opening shower

There are probably a dozen showers in the locker room at the Y, but only one has the “rain shower” head and it’s the best one. The weird thing is that nobody seems to know. Rarely is anyone ever in that shower. But, lately I’ve been clashing with another woman who also claims it as her own.

It used to work out fine because she would be done before I got out of the pool, but I’ve been getting to the pool earlier to claim a lane in the sweet spot between the crazy-early-5:30 a.m.-folks (mostly men) and the 6:30 a.m.-gotta-be-to-work-at-8 crew (mostly women).

Early mornings at the Y tend to have a surprising amount of older adults/retirees. I don’t know why. But as a working woman who just needs to get her damn workout in and get to freaking work on time, yep, I get annoyed with them a lot.

Enter the retired woman who has an affinity for the same shower that I do.

She hangs her bag on the hook right outside that shower. So do I. I’ve moved her bag to the next hook over when I get to the shower first. She’s moved mine when she gets there first.

So last week, I get out of the pool and as I go into the shower room, I see her sitting in the whirlpool. Dibs on the good shower then, right?  I’m getting my towel out of my bag to hang it up when she comes rushing in and — I swear to God — jumps right into that stall.

I’m like….seriously?

So, I grab my bag and I move to another shower and I’m pissed.

I’m in there just counting all the reasons I hate that woman: A.) You have no job, you can come anytime during the day. B.) You could’ve sat in that whirlpool and enjoyed it for five minutes and I’d have been done, C.) Typical spoiled baby boomer behavior.

I’m thinking: Whatever, woman, I’m Gen X….it’s fine. We’re used to just being happy with whatever shit is leftover from the damn Boomers who feel entitled to the best of everything all of the time. So…fine….I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is FINE.

Hey, I’m not proud of those thoughts, but it’s 7 a.m. and SHE TOOK MY SHOWER.

But, as I spin out and hate on all the Baby Boomers and feel sorry for myself and all of Generation X, I realize that I also like the shower I’m currently in.

Huh.

In fact, I think it’s warmer. And there are two hooks that are closer to the stall.  And it’s easier to shave my legs because I can scooch out of the stream of water, which I cannot do in the stall with the big, fat rain shower head.

I like this shower, too. So, now I won. I have not just one favorite shower, but two. I’m adaptable. I’m flexible. I really am fine. I’m not the least bit bothered by this woman — so stuck in her ways and routines — anymore.

And if there’s one thing my generation is good at, it’s making the best of what we have….or detaching so that we don’t really care about anything too much anyway.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.