With less than a week until we're gone forever, I'm trying to think of a good way to sum things up without sounding self-righteous. To say the least, this summer was more for my husband and less for me, and I learned to adapt. Wait, that may have sounded self-righteous.
Anyone who knows me knows that I set goals. I didn't set any goals for the summer oddly enough. I'm not sure why. I think I'm just used to the comfort of my noncritical husband; he wouldn't notice or care if I made any improvements, or make me feel bad for regressing. He would probably secretly criticize me for setting goals, though. So I didn't feel guilty for being a couch potato 24/7, as long as I provided dinner and did the laundry. Easy peasy. Unfortunately, this will inevitably backfire as soon as I conquer real-life. I'm a little socially awkward, okay a lot socially awkward. It doesn't come naturally so when I speak my cheeks may turn bright red. Back to square one. It's not fun if it's not challenging, I guess.
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