I wanted to like gardening because I appreciate other nice looking gardens and prefer a fresh vegetable if I’m going to eat one that’s growable.

It took me a while to acknowledge that I don’t like to garden and I’m not very good at it.

I’m decent at decluttering but I’m a only “good enough” cleaner.

I’m terrible at decorating. Partly because I truly don’t want to bother buying this or that to put here or there. I don’t like a lot of STUFF around that isn’t functional (knick-knacks, dust collectors, chatzkis). The more things I have around for decoration, the more the random socks or sweatshirts or athletic paraphernalia bothers me. The stringing machine has been in our TV room since June. I don’t even see it anymore.

I’m not good at and rarely want to discuss my feelings. I’d rather get right to the practical solution of a problem in order to smooth out my feelings about it.

I’m not a great listener. I mean just listening. I’m more inclined to help solve a thing. I want to get better at that. (Not the solving part, the just listening part).

I am not an activist. I’m a decent advocate for people I love but not at all in a broader sense.

It’s funny that I only recently gave myself permission to recognize and accept these things about myself. One of the benefits of getting older, I guess.