Where’s Your Comfort Zone?
I made a mistake the Saturday night I went out by posting on my Facebook that I was out of my comfort zone, which my mother took to mean that I was in a non-safe situation. This caused her to call me at 7:30 am on Sunday morning to make sure I made it home safely. Next time I’ll put on my FB, “I’m HOME”. I guess as long as I’m putting on there that I’m going out, I should put on there when I’m home safely. However, what I meant by ‘out of my comfort zone’ was off the couch. Actually, out of my green recliner, where I spend most of my time, when I’m not working two jobs and going to school; and occasionally, working out.
All of my furniture is hand-me-down. My dad used to call my house the Goodwill because he knew I’d take anything. But he always had really nice furniture, and I was poor. I got my latest furniture from my mom and it’s a couch and two green recliners. The one I sit in is so comfortable. It’s where I watch LOST (oh, lost, I’m going to miss you so). Where I sit when the girls and I have movie night and we clean our DVR. It’s where Lindsey can still sit comfortably with me, even though I know a time is coming when she won’t fit on the chair with me, or she’ll be too old and won’t want to sit with me (tear). It’s where I take my naps instead of studying. The truth is I’m not very comfortable in other situations, especially new ones. Maybe no one is, but I’m totally comfortable hanging out at home with my girls. So when I said I wasn’t in my comfort zone, it didn’t mean walking around downtown alone at midnight, it meant at a club with a bunch of people I didn’t really know.
Although there was a guy in a sleeping bag next to the ATM at the Wells Fargo and it sent me into a tangent about who’s homeless in Denver. Why would anyone pick Denver to be homeless? As though people choose to be homeless. I understand that if given the choice, no one would be homeless. When we went to San Diego a couple of years ago, we were out at the pier at dusk and people just started converging on the park benches and I actually thought if I was going to be homeless, that was the place to do it. If I decide to chuck it all, I’ll be homeless in a tropical climate. Just saying.
I’m a work in progress. Aren’t we all? But where’s your comfort zone?