Something has happened to me. Things I once considered completely boring now bring me an unreasonable amount of joy.
Fresh bedding. An empty washing basket (a pointless task, that never lasts but hey ho). A completely free Sunday. Someone cancelling plans I didn't really want to go to anyway.
Honestly. Bliss.
I don't know if it's my age, my hormones or whether I've simply reached peak can't be bothered. But my definition of a good time has definitely changed.
Cancelling Plans Is Basically a Gift
There was a time when a cancelled Saturday night would have been disappointing. Now?
Oh no. What a shame.
Meanwhile I'm already mentally in my pyjamas.
Don't get me wrong. I love seeing people. I love going out, dinner, drinks, weekends away and having something lovely in the diary.
But do you know what I also REALLY love?
Nothing in the diary.
That little blank square has become ridiculously attractive.
Fresh Bedding Deserves More Respect
If you're under 25, you may want to skip this section. You won't understand yet.
But getting into freshly washed bedding after a bath?
What an event.
Bonus points if it's cold outside and you know you don't need to get up early the next morning.
Nobody tells you when you're younger that one day this will genuinely compete with going out. Yet here we are.
Being At Home
This is probably the biggest one for me. I used to think staying in meant you weren't doing anything.
Now I think: Excellent. I'm not doing anything.
There's a difference.
Door shut. Lamp on. Candle lit. Something good for dinner. Maybe a glass of wine. Maybe a cup of tea. Depends which version of me has turned up that evening.
And absolutely nowhere I need to be.
That's luxury now.
The Quiet Car Journey
This one may be age-specific. Or parent-specific. Or perhaps I've just become intolerant.
But sometimes I get into the car and don't put anything on.
No radio. No music.
Nothing.
And I drive along in complete silence like a woman who has finally cracked the code to life.
Ten years ago I would have thought this was deeply concerning.
Now?
Spa day.
Saying No
Oh, this is a good one.
I used to spend far too much time worrying about whether saying no would offend someone.
Now I've discovered the joy of:
“No, I can't make it, but have a lovely time.”
And then - this is the clever bit - not writing another four paragraphs explaining why.
Revolutionary.
Maybe that's age. Maybe it's confidence. Maybe I simply no longer have the hormones available to manufacture unnecessary guilt.
Either way, I'm keeping it.
The Little Luxuries
A really good pillow. Nice hand wash. Decent coffee. Good pyjamas. The best bread from our local bakery.
And a beautiful candle you absolutely didn't need, but would be ridiculously happy if someone bought you.
Twenty-year-old me would be horrified.
Twenty-year-old me also thought sleeping till middle of the day and then spending £60 in a bar was a sensible financial decision, so I'm not taking advice from her.
Maybe that's another thing I've realised as I've got older - the little luxuries are often the best ones.
The things you don't necessarily need. The things you might not quite justify buying for yourself. But the things that make ordinary life feel that little bit nicer.
Perhaps that's why I've ended up making candles for a living after all.
Going to Bed Early
Remember when going to bed at 9pm sounded tragic?
Now someone says, “I was in bed by nine last night,” and my response is, “Ohhhh, lovely.”
Not sarcastically. Genuinely.
There is almost nothing that can happen after 9pm that I need to be involved in.
I'll find out tomorrow.
Maybe This Is What Getting Older Actually Looks Like
And I'm quite enjoying it.
Not all of it, obviously. There are parts of getting older that I would happily return to sender.
But I like knowing myself better. I like caring less about things that really don't matter. I like being able to say no.
I like staying in because I want to stay in, not because there's nothing else happening.
And I really like realising that the good stuff doesn't always have to be the big stuff.
Sometimes it's fresh bedding. A quiet house. Something gorgeous burning. A completely empty diary.
And nobody asking you to go anywhere.
Honestly?
Perfect.
Jo x
