by Marielle Carlisle
I've recovered since the last time I posted, and have learned that our water bill will be less then half as much as I thought it would be. Whew. I'm in my swimsuit again, though. When you go swimming/splash-pading all morning, it's hard to motivate yourself out of the sun-induced coma that hits around this time of day.
I had a big day yesterday. It was ... my birthday.
I like birthdays. The last couple for me have been fun, nothing special. It's always "yeah, 28, that's alright," or "29, random number, I can handle that."
But 30? I FEEL different.
I feel old. And before I hear from all you's older then me (believe me, I've heard it), let me explain.
It's not that I feel old, it's just that I don't feel young anymore. I know I'm still youngish (people my age are still playing professional sports, barely), but I'm not YOUNG.
I have a completely different number at the beginning of my age. So long 2, it's been a slice.
From now when I fill out surveys or whatever, I'm in an entirely different age bracket! At least this year when I run the turkey trot I won't get blown away by the young 20's crowd. I'm gonna rock that 30's bracket!
I must've blinked, cause I swear I just graduated from high school. That's how I feel inside. This 30 number doesn't feel right.
I remember the summer between my freshmen and sophmore year of college, I worked at a paint-your-own-pottery store. During my first week of work the owner of the store celebrated her 30th birthday. She was so professional and confident and mature, and it boggles my mind that I'm now her age. I'm now 'supposed' to be put together and beautiful and everything my boss was back then. I can't believe I thought 30 was old when I was 19.
At least after this year, 31 and 32 should be a breeze.