Well hell’s bells. It’s four in the morning, and I’m just now sitting down at the kitchen table to write. How did this happen?

With nothing officially on my calendar, I slept in then used today to do everything I didn’t emotionally want to do. I called my insurance company, emailed my doctor’s office, cleaned out my email inbox, left a message for the insurance company of the guy who knocked the ever-loving shit out of me last July while I was simply driving along, minding my business (then out of an orange-colored sky–). (They didn’t answer or call me back, despite their voicemail message that said, “I’m committed to returning you call by the end of the business day.” Committed, my ass.) In other words, I spent the day being an adult, hating every minute of it.

Then I took a nap.

This evening I went to my friend Bonnie’s house to pick up some stuff and ended up staying awhile. She and her husband (Todd) have this gorgeous, wraparound porch where we like to sit and watch the sun go down. It’s the kind of place where the rest of the world disappears. It’s like you sit down in one of the chairs, and it kind of sucks you in. Whatever stressful thing you did earlier in the day simply falls away. You look at the trees in the yard, trees that have been there longer than you’ve been on the planet, trees that have seen it all come and go, and suddenly your problems seem smaller. You think, What was that thing I was so worried about?

Everyone should have such a place.

After hanging out on the porch for a bit, Bonnie and I headed to downtown Fort Smith, on foot, to see a rockabilly band. By the time we got to the venue, the band was almost done with their last set, but we still got a few dances in. Honestly, it was the weirdest thing, this little dive bar with Jimi Hendrix painted on the wall, this band giving it all they’ve got, a dozen people scattered about the room, just two dancers getting with it. In my mind it was the last place you’d find something beautiful, like joy on the dance floor or a turquoise bass being strummed like nobody’s business. But there it was if you could see it.

When the band finished, Bonnie and I left, and I broke all my Autoimmune Paleo rules. “Let’s go down the street and eat a pizza,” I said. So that’s what we did. Y’all, the pizza was delicious. I don’t know why anyone would give up carbs. (Actually I do, but for a night, they were nice.) Walking home, we stopped in front of Fort Smith’s one and only gay bar, Kinkead’s, then went inside.

Y’all, for the longest time, I was in the closet, at least in Fort Smith. At least in my head. But the point is, I’ve intentionally never gone to Kinkead’s. First out of fear, then out of principle. Like, I’ve never been and I’ll never go. But tonight I figured that needed to change. (Everyone should, at some point, break their own rules.) So just as they were closing, Bonnie and I went inside. Ten feet into the door, I saw an old roommate, then an old boyfriend. God, this town is so small, I thought. But it was truly good to see them, and it was good to meet some new faces, which I did. Hell, I even saw two sets of breasts–well, one and a half sets (on drunk females)–so that’s something.

To be perfectly clear, I didn’t ask to see these bare-chested ladies and am rather traumatized that I did. Highly traumatized, actually. (I’m a homosexual.) That being said, it was more entertaining than staying home and watching soap operas with Mom and Dad. (Sorry, Mom and Dad.) At the very least, it’s a better story to tell.

And then she pulled down her shirt in a gay bar. (Wrong audience, honey. Wrong audience.)

Now I’m home and ready to pass out. I’ve been thinking, Life is so random. One minute you’re home wrapped up in “adulting,” forcing yourself to take care of business. Then the next you’re out dancing, enjoying yourself in the strangest of places. It really is odd. So much of me has wanted to leave this town for so long. And not that I want to stay, but I’m here now, and I’m finding that you can have fun anywhere. It really is about what you bring to the place, not what the place brings to you. And at least if you’re open to it, perhaps life can surprise you, take your ho-hum day and turn it right around, leave you thinking, Shit, I guess anything–anything–is possible.

But seriously, life, enough with the bare-chested ladies.