That terrifying feeling of contentment!

Image by ulterior epicure via Flickr

I realised something on the weekend that caught me by surprise. I was dusting, sweeping, cleaning – generally catching up with some cleaning…something I really have neglected lately as I’ve been so incredibly busy…when I experienced a moment of contentment. Oh – I had also raked leaves earlier that day, and the day before my partner and I had gone shopping for a dish washer (our first ever!).

But I digress. My moment of surprise came when, as I was cleaning, I thought to myself ‘I think my party days are over.’ And…I was fine with that thought…Woah.

It’s a huge moment for someone who has been known by many to be a ‘party girl’. From my mid-teenage years, I loved a drink, I loved to dance, and I loved to have a good time. That continued on and off (more often on than off) into my early 30’s. The last few years I’ve struggled with the whole buying a house and settling down thing, and have had a few moments of letting loose. When anyone mentioned the word ‘contentment’ to me I was one to scoff in their faces. ‘Content – pah!’ But today, at 33 and a half, I suddenly feel content not to hit the town to dance myself silly and write myself off, only to spend four days recovering.

No – over the last few weeks – especially – I have found myself enjoying such pleasures as whiling away hours in Ikea, putting up blinds with my man, airing out the house, and sitting on the back patio drinking a glass of wine whilst my dog plays with her new toy.

I know it’s partly an age thing, and it’s also partly to do with my new mentality. You could say that I’m ‘maturing’ like a fine wine or a good cheese?