Utter goofball; unapologetic, serene, and sincere in the manner which my senses partake of the world at large. But I never stop thinking, never never, and the gears are always churning and observing and taking my own self far too seriously.
I like to think myself equal parts beer-swilling homemaker; reflective, considerate, mindful hedonist-of-sorts; and an actual grown-up, I can't deny it. Beer goes with baking unequivocally (unless it's a quickbread cinnamon roll, then I get coffee), I'm honest to a fault and/or infuriating degree if you keep asking me shit, and I dutifully do the dishes and buy vegetables and clean the catbox and will (almost certainly) eventually get a Real Job. Unless I can find a way out of it (which goes only for that last one).
There is potential for growth within the discomfiture of change, which I like to think I'm approaching with a good pair of shoes and a healthy attitude. And possibly a slight buzz.
Also: ridiculous amounts of attention to detail. By now I simply cannot help it.