Welcome to My Insanity

If I could be anything in the world, I think I would choose sane. Yes, sanity. I hear it's nice.
I have NEVER taken the easy road. I think it is part of my contrary personality. Why should we wait and get married when when we are established with careers and money when we can eat 89 cent pot pies for every meal? Having a kid is so much fun! I know, I'll have FOUR!!! Hmmmm, some free time just opened up in my life. Perhaps I'll see what baking at 3 in the morning is like...
From the time I was little, I went out of my way to make life more difficult for myself. I'm not really sure why, but I believe it must have something to do with my penchant towards drama. Drama, after all is comedy versus tragedy, right? My life has been so many things, but never boring.
I used to believe that one day I would grow up, and I would be sane. All of the laundry would be folded and put away, and I would be sipping tea at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. Some quiet music (I'm thinking Tchaikovsky) would be playing softly in the background as my beautifully groomed dogs slept on...dog beds! (gasp!) Guests could pop in at any time, day or night to this beautiful image as well as freshly baked scones. Ahhhh...
Well, I'm 33. Shouldn't I be grown up by now? I had a friend of mine today tell me, "you're just not really the 'grown up type.'" She's right I'm not. So instead of my picturesque "dream reality," welcome to my insanity.
The laundry is healthily overflowing in the laundry room in front of the motionless machines that I was sure were going to revolutionize my laundry duties. The tea is replaced with several half drank cans of Diet Coke scattered throughout the house, (can't ever find one when you need it!) and the newspaper is actually the latest issue of People, probably stuck to the oak breakfast room table with oatmeal that Patch had launched earlier. As for Tchaikovsky, well, he's out, but Jerry Garcia and the rest of The Grateful are there filling the atmosphere with their chemically induced wisdom. And those sweet dogs, not so groomed, but perhaps without grass in their hair, are sleeping on the back of the couch. (dog beds do not exist in our house, except to say that anything is the dogs' bed if they see fit) Oh, and the scones, don't count on it. But at any given time I have a Rubbermaid full of "rejected" cookies that did not make my final cut into an order. My poor kids have come to realize they only get "Mommy's rejects." This is all so very unhealthy!

So I'm still kinda waiting until that day when everything switches over to the sane life. It seems very relaxing and comfortable. I just really hope I don't have to give up all of the fun.