Strawberries, Blueberries & Raspberries

Is it just me, or is my brain set on blog. After reading someone else's, my dura-matter sets in to processing my life as a new post (groan). I supose this is what happens when one has turned off the music, has had her fill of ironing, and is just not looking foward to doing dishes. Despite what feeling the "groan" may imply, I actually totally enjoy puttering on my little feet about the apartment picking up clothes, throwing away lastnights candy wrappers, and straightening up our quaint and cozy space. I'm in what I like to call "my little hole" for about 12 hours a day, plus or minus and hour here and there. I always used to view myself as an extreme extrovert, but am now finding that I can pleasently go through the day without seeing anyone except Jon. This only happens perhaps once or twice a week due to the slightly upsetting chapel demands (which total 4 times a week). When I was a wee one, I used to beg my mother to let my poor, homeschooled self out of the house for an outting with my other homebound playmates. She always told me to entertain myself by running around the house three times. "Um, no thanks, Mom. I'll stick to bemoaning my thirteen-subject-a-day existance." Smarter for me had I heeded my mother's advice and ran around the house. But, in extreme contrast, I no longer go stir-crazy every five minutes wanting to go somewhere. This may be, perhaps, due to the fact that I have no car (and I've tempered a bit). We've widdled ourselves down to one mighty sports-car. Not by choice, because the Tripple-Berry Smoothie (ie; my cosmetically challenged Saturn) chose to blend it's last. So, simply, I should rather choose to spend my days being a productive married woman where I am, than a whiney, grumpy twenty-one year old college student with no car. Though it may sound as if I had to physically make the shift in my brain, it actually came quite easy. For a lack of eloquence; I enjoy my life.