this place

The last night I partied too hard was in December of 2005. I partied so hard that I ended up with only one flip flop and no keys. I spent the next day calling friends: begging for a ride to work or clues on where my keys were. That day, I was so frazzled and frusterated that I quit my job: walked out and gave my boss my receipts the second the large group of high school kids she had seated in my section left.

That night, I went home to my apartment, invited Steve over. I threw away my one remaining flip flop. I located my keys. Steve got me an interview at an 8-5 job that had nothing to do with high schoolers. Within six months, Steve proposed and I paid off my credit card debt. And we’ve partied plenty since, but never again with reckless abandon. Never without having someone lined up to watch over me when I start becoming irresponsible. That part of me is as lost as my flip flop (although I have a sneaking suspicion if you looked in that “lake” behind Opperman’s on 144th, you could still find it).

I figured out what people mean when they say, “I’m in a good place right now.” It means that you actually learned from mistakes. I am in a good place right now: I’m not stressed at work, I’m not overdrafting my banking account, I’m not having family drama. And all these nots equal an “am:” I am happy. I’m satisfied and content. And if I don’t have anything to complain about, this is a moment we should freeze in time and publish on the internet.

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