Wednesday, September 2

Another Year Coming To A Close

It's about that time again. The time where you count your candles. And your wrinkles. And the hours it takes to kick a hangover. And realize, wow, it's going downhill and fast. Ugh.

I'll even be honest and tell you that a couple days ago, I forgot how old I was.

26? 27?

How do you forget your age? Easy. You lie about it for repeating years. So I've pretty much brainwashed my short-term memory into thinking that I'm still 24. Awesome, I know.

But lastly, I'm not 24. At least on paper, in my medical chart. I will be hitting that over-the-25-mark of 26. Thank God it's an even number (which makes it easier for me to deal).

So last night I decided to be proactive in starting a birthday wish list to help the wookie in my life out a little. Apparently it's incredibly hard to shop for a girl who thought that a two-butt lawn chair was the coolest thing ever (seriously, I named it the Love Bench and it's a huge hit in baseball game/park outing/barbeque-ing settings). But he's a boy, and I don't want coal for my birthday, so I'll oblige to his silent request.

On the top of that list:

"Wash Car, Vacuum Inside."

I kid you not. I'm too lazy to drive it down somewhere to have it done. And vacuuming it out just takes too much effort (not that my car is strewn with fast food paraphenalia - but my dash is dusty and the Sheriff isn't here to clean it for me). So I'm resorting to my birthday. Which any boy should think, awesome, gift #1...check.

And as I played around with in hopes of lengthening the list that started with a car wash and glass-bottomed Tupperware (I need more receptacles for my leftover-dinner-turned-lunch-at-work), I decided to see what the difference between "Milestone Birthday: 25" and "Milestone Birthday: 30" was.

Honestly, not much. If not lameness. The 25 was still pretty alcohol-based, while the 30 was home-based. Is it bad that I liked what the 30s suggested better? Maybe that means I'm wiser than my years. (Or my mom's thinking that maybe I'm outgrowing my love for vodka tonics - haha, right...I'm my father's daughter, so let's be real).

Thank goodness I still have a little over a month to sort out how old I'm getting.

1 comment:

  1. Ugg I totally had that 'damn I'm old' moment last night.

    While making Adam dinner in a nearly overflowing frying pan using tin foil as a make shift lid for the millionth time Adam goes, "Hot damn woman I know what I'm getting you for Christmas!"

    I actually high fived him. Because he told me he would get me a frying pan with a lid for Christmas.

    How sad.