I’m nearing my 33rd birthday. Ever since I wrote the post 31 Feels Like Getting Really Excited About Trying A New Broom, it comes to mind again and again.
33 still feels like Uncle Rico trying to throw a football over them mountains. 33 knows a lot of Uncle Ricos. Basically everyone is Uncle Rico.
33 has heard Bob Seger’s “Against the Wind” many times, but, feels a punch to the gut when she really listens to the lyrics for the first time.
33 feels excited about getting new gutters.
33 revels in wearing sensible shoes. Heels, panty hose and panty lines be damned.
33 plans bi-annual lightbulb dates. These involve taking inventory of all of our burnt out bulbs, going to the homestore, buying the bulbs and replace, experiencing more excitement than the situation might dictate.
33 is (ironically) grateful she grew up before every moment and second could be documented and shared on smartphones and social media platforms.
Until February 3rd, Jake had never seen musical before.
People singing just makes him feel uncomfortable. It always has. On the flip side, I love it when people sing. Actually, I prefer when people do. Talking is boring.
I grew up watching musicals and never sports. Jake grew up watching sports, but never musicals. Every time I watch a musical on television he leaves the room and every time I try to watch a sporting event, I fall asleep. Last year, Jake’s employer invited us to attend a baseball game in their suite when we first moved to St. Louis. I spent the entire time utterly captivated by the nacho cheese squirt machine in the snack bar.
What was supposed to be a grand, long night of shenanigans ended as a leisurely dinner eating cheesy cauliflower. We were home by eight and I fell asleep by ten, watching Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha have a much wilder night than I.
Last year I wrote a post called “31 Feels Like Getting Really Excited About Trying Out A New Broom.” Upon moving into our new house, I found myself getting really excited about using a new plunger and figure the same applies to 32.
When I was young, my parents used to warn me that time flies infinitely faster when you get older. I thought this was weird and didn’t believe them. If there’s anything I do know with every fiber of my being, it’s that time does pass by faster when you’re older. It just does.
If you drive and have never moved to a different state, there’s one thing you probably take for granted.
Your drivers license.
When you live in the same state, you simply renew your license and plates mail. When you move, it’s a different story.
My friend recently compared owning a 100-year old house to caring for an elderly person.
“Can you remind me, again, why we bought a 100-year old house?” I asked Jake as the downstairs banister fell off into my hands.