I have never really wanted to grow up, but it’s pretty much upon me now. I’m in mid-twenties, I’m getting married, and not only are my friends getting married, but they’re having children. Children that are not accidents, that are happily received, that they look forward to. Toto, we’re not in undergrad any more.
Yesterday was St Patrick’s Day, and events of yesterday (such as planning ahead to get a taxi rather than park and deal with driving home later, opting to go to an establishment that had food so we could eat and not just get drunk and feel sickly, being embarassed when I fell over a guardrail- sadly, not because of drinking but because I have a lack of general coordination from time to time) really brought the growing up thing to the forefront. Other things that have done this lately:
- I can actually tell you the due date of all bills I pay.
- I have spent the majority of the last month’s weekend evenings in the house, rather than going out to bars.
- It’s spring break, and I’m at work this week. And even though I do have two days off tomorrow, I already have a list of errands to fill that time, and those errands do not involve driving to PCB.
- I’m genuinely happy when I receive gifts like place settings and knife blocks. (I cannot WAIT to actually get my hands on the new knife block- I’ve reached new levels of excitement for that one.)
I’m not unhappy with these developments, but some days, I do wish Geoffrey the Giraffe would swoop down, take me to his magical land of endless aisles of toys, and I’d enjoy it just as much as I did 20 years ago, without wondering in the back of my mind if I can get all the laundry done tonight.