Each night before I go to bed, I sit and think of all of the things I'm going to start doing differently.
The next day I'm going to start doing 100 sit-ups a day, serving perfectly balanced meals, spend less time online, start writing an amazing novel, contact the half a dozen friends I miss. I rally with the hope of each new day, positive that tomorrow (or Monday...because Monday is a good starting day) will be the day I start doing everything perfectly.
Obviously, it never happens.
Don't get me wrong, I'm closer to that mythical Woman I Want To Be than I've ever been in my life. I have been happy and healthy, doing yoga and paddleboarding, being social and pushing my own awkward limits, making new friends (you know how weird I get about that), writing more and being more organized. I am a better person lately, but there's still all of that other stuff, that I want to do but obviously kind of don't want to do since I never do it. I'm a little bit afraid that there will always be "all of that other stuff" even if I accomplish a lot of the ever-evolving list of small ambitions.
I've decided in the last two days to become a REALLY good cook (I'm skipping learning to cook entirely, going straight to master chef despite my inability to safely handle knives) and to learn Spanish (I took 3 years in high school, was in the Spanish National Honor Society, and have been to Mexico twice. So I'm sure a summer of thinking about it before bed will be the catalyst for change that I've been awaiting).
I don't even really like food or Spanish.
Also, those 100 sit-ups? I'm on it. Tomorrow.
So, we're what? Not even 2 official days into summer (although my vacation with them last week counts) and I'm already suffering from extreme boredom and delusions of grandeur.