Response and Responsibilities

Responsible. I really hate that word sometimes!

I would like to be irresponsible just a couple of times... but without any bad consequences. (It's the consequences that keep me responsible.) If I had to choose 5 things that I would like to do that are irresponsible, I believe I would have to choose the following:

1) I would go out with anybody I wanted to, no mater what. (Look out George Clooney and Brad Pitt.)

2) I would drive really, really fast. Even in a work zone. (Unless it was unsafe.)

3) I would go shopping and spend lots of money and write checks for it all because there would be no one to stop me and no consequences.

4) I would open my sliding glass door to listen to the rain even with the air conditioner on. (oops! I am doing that one right now!)

5) I would buy a ticket to Tahiti and live on the beach even without a job lined up first.

There. Those are my five irresponsible choices. They are not in any particular order, it's just the way I thought of them. They aren't even really funny... they are just my choices.

I have a strong streak of responsible-ness. It is a weakness, really! It is. Sometimes I don't want to be responsible. Like for instance, I need to clean out my closet. It's bad. It's crammed with clothes, shoes, suitcases, boxes, handbags, sweaters, and other miscellaneous stuff that I don't know what to do with because it is really the only storage I have in this apartment. I told myself that I was going to tackle this project 15-30 minutes a day until it's done. The thing is, I told myself I was going to do this 2 months ago. Well, this week I was going to kick myself in the butt and do it. Here it is... my night to work on it and I don't want to, but a dear brother (who shall remain nameless) told me that I would do it because I was responsible. ARRRRRRGGGGGGG. Now I have too. I really have too. The pressure is on AND its MOUNTING. My "firstborn" nature is kicking into gear and I am going to have to start on this stupid closet. sheesh.

I've gotta go now. Sorry.

My closet is calling.

Good Grief. I hate being responsible.