The Way Things Are



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I’m finally a grown up
2005-07-26, 11:48 a.m.

I’m finally a grown up, and this I know for two reasons.

First, my mom called me and asked what we are doing this weekend, and my answer was the standard “Working on the house.” She clarified, asking me what we are doing for my birthday, and I answered quite honestly “I hadn’t even thought about it.” I really hadn’t – it’s Monday the 1st, and what I’m concerned about is this Friday we are helping our carpenter Gary pull off his wife’s surprise 50th birthday party, and then on the actual day of my birthday, Lil Guy has his football tryouts, and, hell, I dunno. I really forgot about my birthday, except I’ll probably angle for a meal in an actual restaurant served by actual negligent, surly waitstaff.

I haven’t planned anything this weekend for my birthday. I haven’t endlessly reminded people “Three more weeks til my birthday!” “Two more weeks til my birthday!” “Ten days til my birthday!”

OK, that was a long first. But here’s my second.

Second, I’m (mom, I’m so sorry if you have found me out and are reading this, so stop now! YOUR DAUGHTER HAD HOT UNPROTECTED SEX WITH HER HUSBAND LAST NIGHT! STOP READING) not all that really excited about my parents coming down to spend Saturday night with us and take us out for my birthday. Sure, it’ll be good to see them, and it’s exciting to get to show off the homebuilding to them, now that the pretty stuff is going in, like light fixtures and countertops (and toilets, which while not terribly pretty, do provide a nice, homey touch. Have I mentioned this house has 5 toilets? Gee shit, indeed).

But I’m officially curmudgeonly – I’m only thinking about the re-arranging of my schedule to accommodate visitors. Not having a nice little visit and an actual restaurant meal with my Aged Parents.

“FORTY-ONE – YOU’RE OFFICIALLY A CURMUDGEON!”

Plus, dude. 41. That’s not even that nice little threshold age of 40, like “Look at me! I’m 40! Can you believe it?”. 41 is officially forty-something. I’m pretty sure 41 is a prime number, too, so that’s special.

Perhaps I’ll work that into some kind of a theme for the Big (Ass) Day…

“FORTY-ONE – THE NEXT PRIME NUMBER AFTER THIRTY-SEVEN!”

Please treat yourself to a looksee at my pink shoes. Are these the shoes of an elderly curmudgeon? I think not:


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