Last night...I pawned the boys off on my mother...the husband was out of town...and I was hoping for a big night of drinkin, dancin, laughin, and debauchery. What I got? Is no relation to that. I got a nap. From 7-830. At 9 I set out for a friends house...where I hoped the debauchery would begin. It has begun there on more than one occasion, so really, I wasn't dreaming. In this quest for fun, I stopped at Starbucks (please make this plural in your mind.) The first Starbucks was closed. What? At 9pm on a Saturday night? Where are all the yuppy folk supposed to gather? I had to trek across the bridge and 10 minutes out of the way...just for the delightful taste of the latte. So...I get to the PARTAAY...and realize rather quickly that it was indeed, NOT A PARTAAY. In fact, it included 3 girls under 10...who, I must say are adorable and sweet...and I loved playing mermaid with them...but when I get a night alone, I am not really looking to hang out with the under 10 scene. So, we are hanging out...and talking...and my friends boyfriend asks me if I realize how old I am. It might sound odd, but I had just finished saying that we should move to San Diego, because the Navy is there...and think of all the hot boys...What? They are hot. We began to disect this comment from him. First I had to point out that he had lied about his age in the beginning...and so, essentially, I had missed 3 of his birthdays in a mere 4 month time span...how is that possible? But I let him go on, merely because he is funny. I am 30-something. I can't full on accept the actual something part. I wear cut offs and flip flops. I read Perez Hilton. I listen to Fergie. I don't drive a mini van. I can't be this old, right? I mean, my oldest is going to be 10...so you can deduce that I am ATLEAST 23...give or take...but 30 something? Jeesh. And you know what? I am rapidly approaching 30 something PLUS one. I am on the WRONG side of 30, that is for sure. I have 2 therapists. One for me, one that I share with my husband. I have a mortgage that only has 19 years left on it. I have a car payment that will exist after my last student loan payment. I have a 401K AND a pension. I can still get up in the morning AND poop without any assistance. I can't be that old, can I?
As I reflect on the last 30 some years...I realize that while you may not be what you eat...you are as old as you feel. And I feel? Like a nap.