A familiar sort of place

Erica looks back at the last few years, and has good reasons to look forward:

Oddly, I could write almost exactly that same paragraph. I have lived alone for the last quarter-century or so, but I never thought of myself as having "my own place" until I had my name on the deed. Outgo is just as fast as income, which is not comforting, but it's not keeping me up late at night either. And while I have about as much social life as I can handle, which is not much, I remind you that I have lived alone for the last quarter-century or so, which has one obvious drawback. (As Erica says: "It's that whole thing about feeling like I don't have enough to offer until I get my own stuff in order.")

And there's probably one other difference between us. If she got "everything going right at once," she'd likely be delighted. Were I to do so, I'd likely be suspicious.

Still, having a lot of things actually in order is a cause for celebration, or at least for some level of contentment; when things are good, reminding yourself that they're not yet perfect is an effective way to bring yourself down. And frankly, I have enough of those already. Let's enjoy the security we have, however tentative it may seem.