If you don’t want to stab yourself in the eye due to the overload of apple picking photos in this post than I haven’t properly done my job. I spent the weekend feeling as domesticated as a middle aged soccer mom. Friday I fell asleep before ten, Saturday my cousin and I spent the evening baking banana bread and dancing around to Taylor Swift and on Sunday we brunched at the cutest Parisian themed restaurant before heading out to the valley to pick apples. I really couldn’t be happier with the whole situation if I tried. After a summer of frat life (shhh let’s pretend I actually participated in those shenanigans) I have been enjoying a much needed return to normalcy. I knew I was missing a sense of routine in my life but I had no idea how much I appreciated a quiet Saturday night in (#IntrovertForLife).
As boring as monotony can become it is settling to go through periods of just allowing yourself to “be”. If I get stuck in a routine for too long I get overly anxious and stir crazy, yet, if I find myself living without one I feel so unbalanced. I think we can all agree when you reach the point where you tell a guy you will be over in an hour because you’re stopping by a “friend’s” house just so you can spend more time watching Sex and the City…you sort of need to get a life. I reached that point. It’s wonderful to have the free time every day to spend hours at a coffee shop blogging, leisurely morning runs and spontaneous late night adventures (on a tuesday) but there is also something so very beautiful about waking up at the same time each morning and just taking a walk through the forest while watching the sunrise. There’s something oddly energizing about walking in the front door after work and not worrying about what sort of weird take out you can afford for dinner that night and instead just deciding that you want spaghetti squash (because you’re kitchen is sanitary enough to cook it in).
I sometimes worry that my inherent love of mornings, routine, nights in, and lists will turn me into a boring person. I argue with myself about whether or not I really truly enjoy these alternatives more or if I solely gravitate towards them because they are comfortable. In the end I don’t think I let my discomfort restrain me. When the urge to go out and dance strikes me I follow it. I don’t think it’s unusual to go through phases, to prefer coffee to champagne one weekend, and ricochet back to rambunctious adventures the next. All I know is I’m really just stoked about baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies this week and if that makes me insanely boring…so be it!
What’s your idea of the perfect Saturday night? The perfect sunday morning?
P.S. I am OBSESSED with Tory Burch riding boots. I own a black pair and a brown pair and I literally wear one pair or the other four to five days a week. I highly recommend, if you splurge on one item this fall let these be it (and let it be these quilted ones because sadly I can’t justify adding a third pair to my collection). No need to thank me when you’re as obsessed as me (;