Something a touch unsettling has recently come to my attention. I mean, I guess I should have been noticing the signs for a while, but the other day it really struck me...
I am an old person.
And before the outcry about how I'm not old at all and how I need to appreciate my youth starts, let me just clarify. I don't actually think I AM old. I am just behaving old.
The first sign came in correlation with becoming employed. Where once I would routinely see 5 am, I had a new bed time of midnight...and sometimes I barely made it. My parents, one of whom collects social Security regularly see the end of the late show, but not me (and not just because we don't have real tv).
With the job came some lovely coworkers, one of whom is the oh-so-proud grandmother of 2 kids under 2. I'm not saying having a 30 minute long conversation about "grandbabies" makes you an old person, but it sure doesn't hurt the argument.
My main piece of evidence, however, has to do with the high school that is located a block from my office and which I need to pass to get to work from my home. Oh my stars, I am ready to whoop the everloving hell out of every one of those GD teenagers! I may have even hurt my writst the other day from shaking my fist at them too hard. Stay out of the road, where your uniform like it was meant to be worn, and for God's sake IT'S 1 O'CLOCK GET YOUR ASS BACK TO CLASS!
Yeah, its official. I am an old person.
...now where are my crochet hooks? The cold is coming in and I know some folks that don't have appropriate scarves.