My boring life

I saw my shrink today, as I have every month for…a long time.

Now that I’m nearing the age of 28, not 18, and knock-on-wood, life is going along remarkably smoothly, we haven’t had much to talk about. Our last several monthly conversations have followed this progression, approximately:

So, how is work?

It’s…fine. You know, work.

And how is the boyfriend?

He’s good. He’s, you know, working and stuff.

You’ve been with him for a long time now. How long? Couple of years?

Yep, two years last May.

Do you think you’ll ever want to marry him?

Well, sure, I mean, we don’t really have the finances for a wedding or anything. We talk about it, it’s just not something either of us is in a hurry to do right now.

Ahh…I see. But you think you’re going to stay with him?

That’s the plan for now…I don’t see any reason to change good things. (awkward pause.)

Oh…ok. So…how is your mom?

Aside from this and the usual “meds-are-fine” routine, my session’s topics of conversation today included my voicing my opinions over how unfair it is that I have to pay taxes for people who can’t afford to have babies to give birth and raise children, if my sister had ever studied marine biology (which she hasn’t), which then led into a discussion about why my doctor might have thought that she had, the pros, cons, and social stigma surrounding apartment dwellers versus those who live in smaller duplexes or in-law units, the perfect brand of earplugs and their exact location inside the CVS pharmacy down the street, and what a shame it was that the building her former office had been had finally been completely demolished (hence the re-location two years ago).

I suppose, as usual, this could be much less enjoyable. I’ll take it.


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