My 13 year old niece sent me a lovely text early this morning to wish me a happy birthday. In it she wrote: you have a great sense of style and you're not 31 to me, you're 22. I like to think that means I'm young at heart. I mean my mother is basically a 12 year old girl stuck in a grown ass woman's body. Age is a weird thing, I mean I spent my morning listening to Alan Watts tell me to live in the moment! You are who you are now! Stop thinking so much! All good words. I can't stop thinking about this thing I told someone the other day, which came out so effortlessly it was almost like I was telling myself for the first time, too. I make safe choices. I make safe choices. I certainly haven't always. But I do wonder if I now deem some things more risky than they truly are. I'm not really thinking of anything in particular, or one specific decision I've made lately. But I do like this idea of not living for the future version of yourself or your life. I know only a few people who don't struggle with that in some capacity.

It's good to have a day to myself. No neighbors, just the crickets outside and a cool breeze. I imagine that my plants are friends with each other. I want more plants. I wish I didn't have to pay to do laundry.