I stayed out from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m.
My husband and I recently did something we hardly ever do: We left our apartment. I don’t mean to suggest we never leave. We frequently go to work and the grocery store, and when we’re feeling like life is a rat race and are in need of some variety, we go to the other grocery store. But we pretty much never do things for fun. There’s so much else that needs to be done, and it’s hard to prioritize frivolity.
For example: We had our artificial Christmas tree (don’t ask) up until a couple months ago. At a certain point, I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just leave it up until the holidays. Except then it wouldn’t seem special, I reasoned, trying to ignore the fact that an artificial tree isn’t that special to begin with. But how can we go out and have fun and be light and silly and spontaneous when there’s this big chore sitting right in the middle of our living room? And let’s not forget the boxes lining our halls, the piles of stuff in the guest room, the thank-you notes we need to send and the car that needs routine maintenance. We’re in a prison of our own to-do list. The only fun things we actually feel OK doing are the ones that are work related and, hence, aren’t really fun.
I don’t know how it got this way. We both led pretty full, wild lives in our 20s. Actually, maybe that’s how it got this way.
It’s pretty depressing that we’re so removed from all that’s hip and happening because we don’t have the time or interest. We don’t yet have children, so we can’t use that as an excuse. In fact, I’m secretly hoping that having children will turn things around, if for no other reason than having a child requires you to be connected to some kind of community. Maybe I’ll be the kind of mom who knows all the cool kid’s places. The other moms and I will hit it off and people will use slang terms and acronyms that I’ll understand, and I won’t have to sneak into a bathroom to Google them.
Speaking of being out of touch, I was once so connected to pop culture that by the time a band appeared on “Saturday Night Live,” I regarded it as the mainstream finally catching on to this band I’d known about for ages. Now I haven’t heard of half the bands on “SNL.” And by half, I mean all.
But back to the part where my husband and I left our apartment for no reason other than because we’re young and alive and the world is our oyster and why the hell wouldn’t we hit the town. We didn’t go to a roving supper club or a speakeasy or even a dinner party. We aren’t that cool.
Instead we went to Disneyland. We went at 10 p.m. and stayed until 3 a.m., because once a year it’s open 24 hours. Here’s the sad part though. We didn’t go at these hours because we particularly wanted to. We went so late because we spent all day debating whether we wanted to go.
And was it fun? No, not particularly. It was super crowded, and parking was a nightmare. But at least we were out!
And when I told my sister about it the next day, she was pretty impressed. “Wow, 10 a.m. to 3 a.m.? What are you, teenagers?” she asked.
“I know!” I exclaimed. So, at least one person is impressed. !
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