I'm Living My Dream

I live in a small apartment in Davis that doesn't have room for a pet larger than my betta fish. My car is thirteen years old and I need new brakes and new tires. I work 35 minutes away doing a job that most people tell me they don't have the patience to even attempt. My closet is full of boxes that can't yet be emptied because we just don't have the room for it. Our couch is a hand me down, older than I am and has scratches on the bottom from my in-laws' cats. I'm horrible at keeping up with dishes and I can't stand doing laundry. I've known how to cook for a long time, but expanding my recipes to include new and more advanced dishes is a challenge, especially with the super-sensitive smoke alarm that likes to go off when I'm pulling something out of the oven.

The thing is, these aren't complaints. These are the wonderful, quirky things about life that make it so beautiful and wonderful. I love it here, I'm happy here, and I'm living the life of my dreams. I have an amazing husband I love very much. We go swimming and walking around downtown Davis together and laugh and smile and love each other. I got to cook him breakfast this morning, which would have been a surprise if the smoke alarm hadn't gone off. He insisted that he wasn't going to spend any more money on our fish after the last fish tank and then the next day he orders a filter for him that is less agitating to bettas. I no longer go to sleep alone at night, lights on, waking at every noise I hear like I did when I had my own apartment. I get to watch him make music when he's in a creative mood and fall in love with him all over again when he does things like get excited about the bagels he bought being pre-cut. This is joy. This is love. This is life. I am living a dream.