So I'm living with my two best friends now. Just like the old days. Just like in college when we had that special "smoking" room out in the garage and my brother was crashing on my couch after they released him from jail in Montana and he rode Amtrak all the way to California and we built that obscene magazine picture montage on the wall and my landlord kept eyeing me suspiciously because he knew that something wasn't quite right about our living situation but he couldn't quite figure out what that was.
We don't have a smoking room anymore, and my brother is now a happily settled 25 year old living with his beautiful wife and three kids in Arizona. But here I am, chasing 30, and living in my best friends' spare room as she heads off to her job working for a state agency a county over and he heads off to the gym to widen and thicken his already gargantuan shoulders and talk shop to the other body builder/cage fighters.
And I sit here at home (when I'm not at the gym with him), sipping coffee and outlining my busy day (knowing I may only knock off one or two things on my growing to-do list despite my best intentions) wondering what the hell I did with my life to end up here. I'm not 18 anymore and this behavior is ridiculous.
But sometimes it's good to move in retrograde and let the future come up behind you as you ponder your past. I think it makes for a more well-rounded personality. Or so I keep telling myself.