What if nothing ever changed?  What if nothing was ever going to change?  What if I knew that and accepted it.  I’m never going to lose five pounds, or ten.  My backhand will never be consistent.  The first of the month will always be a surprise to me.  No matter how much laundry or dishes or de-cluttering I do, there will always be more laundry and dishes and de-cluttering to do.
            I won’t discover the joys of quitting coffee.  Mike and I will never be one of those couples who work out together even if we buy two cardio machines.  I will never make money writing.  I will not have a built-in bookcase built for the living room.  Not ever.  I will not save the planet, or do anything more ambitious than recycle and mulch the front yard.
            I’ll keep in the same financial shape as always.  We’ll stay in the same house, with the same pros and cons.  I will be neither rich, nor famous, nor stunningly gorgeous to anyone other than my husband.  I will never count my husband’s opinion of my gorgeousness, though secretly I will appreciate and hunger for every single compliment. 
            The same triggers and the same default responses will persist.  I will continue to be a human being having a human experience in this body.  Of course I will grow old, and so will Mike and all our friends, and of course so will Ax, and then we will all most likely die and then who knows what?

            But before that, before that, I know I have a choice.  I can focus all my time and energy on improving and progressing and changing all the imperfections of myself and my life and my things and my family, or be a bit more judicious in my choices about what I really want to adjust in my life and what is basically ok the way it is.  My default is to always be looking for ways to improve, but today I’m going to look for ways to appreciate what is.  And maybe I’ll put the mortgage on autopay.