(no subject)

[ellenmillion]

It’s weird, being called a ‘woman.’ Am I the only one who still sort of thinks of myself as the 17-year old I was 10 years ago? I’m different, by a long shot, and I (*glances down*) definitely look like a woman, but I just have a moment of ‘who?’ when I hear someone refer to me as ‘that woman’. I’m a girl, aren’t I? I don’t suppose so, at the ripe old age I’ve attained.

Eh.

Printing out orders, counting out Elfwood shirts, had a looooong talk with my sister, finished a business article for Epilogue (don’t hurt me ciri! I’m not deserting, I promise!), getting ready to do a little announcement to my mailing list for Wish3 and Gemwing. Took Adventurers to be reprinted. Um... worked. Had a lovely lunch with my sweetie at the Grille.

These catalogs of what I did in a day may be painfully boring to read, but I /like/ writing them down. Jake will tell you in a second that I’m very quick to judge myself by what I’ve accomplished in a day, which is probably not the most healthy of outlooks.

Eh.

*gibbers incoherently for a while*

I can’t *wait* to sleep in tomorrow.

Comments

[pers1stence.livejournal.com]

I felt the same away until about age 28, when, as the asst coach of a fencing team, I spent the better part of three days at the hospital with one of my athletes. We were in Chicago, far from the school we represented and even further from her home. She was scared and stressed and kept relying on me for opinions on what she should do, in light of the doctor recommendations. Her folks were in touch by phone, but they were also relying on me, as well.

That was the point I accepted that I really had become an adult, albeit with some incredulity (I still don't feel old enough to be an adult, but I accept that I am one.)