On Friday, I had some time left over after working and before picking Olive up for kindergarten. I decided to pop into our neighbourhood kid’s bookstore to browse around a little bit before I headed over to Olive’s school.
A few months ago I had an existential crisis while sitting in a hairdressers chair.
I went in all light and breezy, filled with that desire you get in the summertime to change things up. I came out three hours later less a few inches of hair, plus a balayage situation, and filled with crushing questions about how I’m choosing to live my life.
Seems about right, doesn’t it?
I’ve been meaning to write this post for weeks (OK fine, months) and the fact that I haven’t had time to do so yet is kind of perfect, actually. It’s fitting that the only time I’ve had time to write about our life is when a big piece of it is missing. Olive’s at her dad’s and I finally have some silence. Some space and room to think.
Each time I thought of sitting down to write this post I’d remember eight other articles that had to be completed first and on the rare occasions when my writing slate was clear I’d sit here and wonder what the hell a typical day in our life even looks like these days.