By Adreanna

Currently: Horizontal. Wrapped in a blanket. Rewatching Will & Grace like it’s brand new and I didn’t memorize Jack’s best one-liners a decade ago.

I want to be productive. And, technically, I have been. I went to work today. I came home, unloaded my lunch bag like a responsible adult, fed my perpetually hungry cat, half-heartedly cleaned out my closet (if “moved clothes from the floor to the storage bin and actually put my shoes away” counts), and started a load of laundry. Domestic goddess behavior, right?

But still… I feel like I should’ve done more.

I started working again. The job? Cool. The people? Nice. The work? Blessedly easy enough. Bonus plot twist: I ran into an old acquaintance and discovered that one of my former coaching clients also works there. The universe is nothing if not small and messy and poetic.

Every week, I say I’m going to spend my weekends writing—batching blog posts, scheduling content, being that girl. And every week, reality looks more like me, the blanket, Will & Grace, and an occasional existential scroll through Instagram asking the hard questions like, “Why wasn’t I born into Beyoncé’s inner circle?”

That said… I’ve been reading. Like, reading reading. The “smell-of-a-new-book-is-my-love-language” kind. Honestly, it’s always been my thing—nose in a book since forever—but lately, it’s felt like both a lifeline and a luxury. So far this month, I’ve devoured:

• What Happened by Hillary Clinton
• Three Martini Lunch by Suzanne Rindell
• All the Beautiful Strangers by Elizabeth Klehfoth
• How to Lead by David Rubenstein
• Currently deep in For the Culture by Marcus Collins

And let me just say—Three Martini Lunch gave me everything. It’s my favorite read this month, with For the Culture pulling a close second. That counts as productivity, right? Bookworm points? Intellectual sparkle? Something?

Also, in my latest episode of Soft Girl Domestic Adventures: I went plant shopping. Picked up my first tomato plant like I’m officially entering my peak auntie era. Spent a good part of the weekend repositioning my pop-up tent in the backyard, fully channeling Juanita from Baby Boy. (If you know, you know.)

Since rejoining the corporate world, I’ve made it my mission to turn my backyard into a post-work sanctuary. A vibe. A vibe with purpose. Somewhere I can sip tea in the morning, crack open a cold beer after work, and just be.

It’s coming together slowly but beautifully. I repurposed some old flower garlands from past seasons and strung them along the railings like fairy garden couture. Picked up citronella (because Texas mosquitoes? Aggressive.) and some bright, happy Petunias that I can’t wait to watch bloom. Next week, I’m planning to add a lemon tree, an orange tree, and some herbs to the mix. Because what is life if not an ongoing attempt to live your best cottagecore fantasy with WiFi?

And then there’s this: I’ve been thinking a lot lately about tribes. Community. Belonging. And here’s the thing—I’m realizing I don’t really have a “tribe” outside of work. And even more, I don’t know if I truly want one.

Some say it’s because I haven’t found “my people” yet. But unless my people are going to magically appear at the foot of my bed, pry the book from my hands, and hold my attention longer than it takes for me to sneak it back and settle into chapter twelve… I don’t really see how that’s going to happen.

I talked to my best friend about it last night. She, in her usual clarity, text me and said, “You’re just introverted by nature.” Which immediately sent me spiraling into a Google search to see if that tracks for Geminis. Aren’t we supposed to be social butterflies? Life-of-the-party types?

But honestly, it makes sense. I can be social when I need to be. But more often than not, I’m content to sit at the back of the room and quietly watch the story unfold. I love to observe. To process. To be adjacent to the moment rather than smack in the middle of it.

People tend to approach me. I rarely initiate. And I’ve made peace with that.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Just a few thoughts from the blanket, the book pile, and the backyard.

If you made it this far, thanks for hanging out with me.