One day you’re living your life just as normal as ever. You don’t stop to give it much thought. You simple truck on. In the same fashion as everyone else seems to do. You grocery shop. You clean. You shower. You work out. You eat. You shit. You sleep.

After all, it’s life your living. And so it goes.

But then, in one day, you get two different phone calls from friends. Friends you’ve had for ages. Friends who have known your life in all its different increments. They’ve known all your hopes and dreams. And can remark on when those hopes and dreams were changed, altered or abolished.

Yup, they’re those friends.

Well the first friend, lets call that friend #1. Tells you that you are the most stable person he knows right now. You and your husband are the only stable and secure people he’s encountered in his time in London. And that it warms his heart that there’s at least one set of people in that position. Everyone else he knows is still on the hustle. None of them are settled. They’re still jumping from one person, to one thought, to another hope and then off, to another dream.

This comment comforts you. It cuddles you like a warm blanket. Until your husband laughs and says, that’s a nice way of saying “We’re dull.”

But you shrug that off because you like the idea of being all the positive that that one statement, potentially had behind it. After all, you remember when the idea of you being this person was simply another birthday candle wish. And it took nearly thirty of those for it to finally become a reality.

That level of comfort will only last a few minutes.

Another friend, let’s call them #2, phones soon there after. And #2 asks “So what are you doing?” And you, still in your glow of happiness, answers truthfully. “Oh, just finished cleaning. And you?” To wit, #2 says “You know, I think I’m going to stop calling you. You’re just. So. BORING.

Boring?!? Wait what. I’m secure and stable. Not boring.

You argue the point with #2. Because after all, #1 said I was settled and stable. Not boring. Surely, the three don’t mingle together. I must be more the former and not near the latter.

#2 chuckles. “In the last three months, you’re almost always doing something boring. it isn’t worth calling to hear this.” I shrug. Surely, #2 was exaggerating. I asked about her life and there was nothing of note, to speak of on her end.

It seems that both of our lives are boring then. I had to end the call, so Burs and I could go to the cinema. I decided to leave the I’m boring statement there and move on with my life. Secure in the idea that it was the comment of a crazy person. And one not to be trusted.

After the movie, Burs and I decided to have a drink. While sitting there, I went through FB where someone posted this question as a statues update: “If you had one hour free today, you would do______? I ask Burs. “Read a book.” He says. “What about you?”

I pause. What would I do with an hour to myself. In a week, I get so many of them, I get to jump from activity to activity, that I couldn’t settle down on just one. But then I decided what I would do. Burs looked at me and said “You’d probably spend it cleaning, wouldn’t you?”

And the notion that I am, indeed, a boring person crashed on to me like a weight unknown. Because, that was the thought that crossed my mind. Yes, I had just made the kitchen look less like the place of chaos that it usually is. But there’s always more to do.

When did I become this person?!?

Of course, what I fail to realize here, is that I’ve never been the mecca of excitedness. When it was just me, there was more time to go out and be frivolous. I never spoke about cleaning because, once I cleaned, it remained clean. Which left me loads of time for other pursuits…like, shopping and girls time and grooming and dating. But a lot of those activities have been retired. And things that I do, outside of the house, aren’t anymore exciting than the ones I do inside.

This is life.

So, as I sat across Burs, shell shocked and accepting that, yes, #1 meant the same thing as #2 (but was able to say it in a nicer, more socially acceptable way). That we, the Burs, are boring. And after sharing a LARGE bottle of wine, I am willing to comprehend that that isn’t a bad thing. Nor a good thing. It is just a thing.

And things, as they are, can be fine. Because without it being labeled boring, I’ve been pretty fucking happy being here. It’s just the adjective that I’m not happy with. And in the end, that isn’t the one I’d ever use to describe my life.

Because my life is…a work in progress. Or a changing entity. Even better –  a movement not to be categorised. Which is far better than what it use to be – a constant yo-yo of uncertainty. So I’ll take #2’s boring. And continue to see it as #1’s stable and secure. Because it’s all about the outlook. Isn’t it?