I must be getting old, either that or I’m just plain boring. Having spent almost an hour frantically searching through my wardrobe for something to wear, I eventually found something suitable and made my way out to the local bistro to celebrate my friends fortieth.
I was once such a sociable sort, I never struggled with conversation nor confidence when out. These days though, I find myself feeling anxiously awkward and tend to avoid conversation at all cost. It’s not that I have nothing to say, it’s just that I don’t feel much like talking, especially so whilst sat at the table with people I’ve only just met or barely know.
Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful meal and I really enjoyed spending time celebrating the occasion, but the idea of going into town following the food didn’t really float my boat.
I’d much rather curl up in my fluffy jim-jams in the comfort of my own home than to have a night out. Despite being begged to ‘live a little’, I stuck to the Coca Cola and kept my car keys at hand – I know I’m boring right?
Upon arriving home (at just gone 9pm) I was greeted by two wide-awake little ones, they were desperate for cuddles and a catch up before slipping into the Land of Nod. Having crept into their rooms to check upon each of them, I stole a moment to soak up their silent, sleepy faces – home is most certainly where the heart is.
I may be old before my time, I well may be boring but there’s no place else I’d rather be.