I have a life

Several people have commented on what a wonderful lifestyle I have. At the risk of increasing my COW (Cranky Old Woman) status, I don’t have a lifestyle. I have a life.

Yes I may live in Geneva with many trips to Southern France which sounds glamorous. This does not make my torn up bathroom because of a water leak any nicer. It did mean The leak was an opportunity to get closer in a positive sense to my downstairs neighbor who took unwanted showers as I flooded him out. That is life, not a lifestyle.

Yes I may be fulfilling my dream working as a fiction writer (we won’t discuss the slog of getting two novels published because it borders on the masochistic) and journalist which has brought me in contact with some world leaders (few who will remember me as I remember them).

Being able to buy wonderfully fresh vegetables and fruit locally grown is not a lifestyle. Buying mayonaise minutes after it is made or discussing recipes with my fish monger is not a lifestyle. It is called breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Not having a car is not a lifestyle. It is being environmentally conscious (although I did shudder when I borrowed a car yesterday to buy new tiles for the damaged bathroom and got stuck in traffic of doing damage to the environment, but I did choose the closest store to my house rather than driving a few extra kilometers.

So, I take out the garbage, write, wash the floor, write, read books, write, visit with friends, love my friends and family, write, watch television, write, go out to restaurants, write, go to concerts, write, listen to music on the radio and on my CDs, write. There is no style about it. It is my life.