I feel old. And having just typed that, I can picture my grandpa out there telling some young whippersnapper that “you’re only as old as you feel, sunny boy” or whatever it is that old people say. But I don’t feel that kind of old. I can walk around my house confidently without a LifeAlert necklace and you won’t see me at Sweet Tomatoes before 7:00, but things are changing.
I just invested in CDs and there’s hardly a weekend I’m up past midnight or one am. When I actually venture out of my house, a rare occurrence, I’m usually jonesing to head back in the next hour. I even told the H2B the other day that I want to join a card playing group. WTF is wrong with me? I mean, I don’t want to be the old hag still shopping at Forever 21 and going to clubs, but I’m not ready for incontinence and horse pills either.
So if you don’t see me getting blackout drunk and unable to control my gag reflex, it’s because I’m knitting you a sweater and unable to control my bladder. Party on, you young turds.