This is Why I’m Old

First of all, many thanks to everyone for your concern and advice about the headache situation. I’m going to start monitoring it very carefully to see if it’s linked to stress, or specific foods or allergens. I appreciate all your concern – it’s so nice to have a place to ask questions and share concerns with friends.

And now, a story, about how I know I’m old.

It’s not because I currently have a bag of Halls cough drops in my purse. That’s just because I have a cold.

It’s not because I woke up at 5:45 the other morning and decided to do crafts before work. That’s just because….well, I guess because I’m me.

The reason I’m old is because I didn’t go out on Saturday night.

It’s not really that different from every other Saturday night. As an old married woman, my weekends typically revolve around chores, some kind of sports-related get-together and discussing torts cases with my husband.

This past weekend, I was back in my world favorite town (and yes, I realize I’m probably one of the few people in the world who consider it wonderful, but I love it) and I spent the night with my sisters. After the game, Beth refused to go out, so I drove home with her, stopped to grab some pizza since we hadn’t had dinner and then planned to get ready to meet Jo and her friends and go to some of the local places I had frequented in college.  

However, I hadn’t reckoned with the cold and its effect on my aging bones (apparently). The temperature had dropped to 35 degrees. I had no closed shoes except tennis shoes. And no long-sleeved shirts except the one I wore to the game.

So, I went outside in flip-flops to retrieve my tennis shoes, only to find that I was so chilled that my teeth were chattering so ferociously and I couldn’t make my hands move to untie my shoes or slip them on.

What did I do in this situation? Give up? Never. I took my shoes inside, planning to put them on once I had gotten warm, then to brave the elements and go to Scruffy’s. Or wherever.

Ducks called while I was trying to get warm, and he was fired up and full of game talk and analysis. So, while he was talking to me, I decided the — obviously — most logical way to get warm was to climb under the five fleece blankets Beth had layered on her bed and de-chill my frostbitten toes.

I’m sure you already know what’s coming next. Of course, I fell asleep. Of course, I became very disgusted with myself when I woke up at 11:50, which technically still fell into an acceptable “going-out” time frame. Of course, I didn’t get out of bed, except to take off my jeans. And, of course, I asked Beth, who was watching YouTube videos from her laptop, to put a pair of her socks on my feet. Because, obviously at my advanced age, I couldn’t be bothered to find socks, or to reach down and put them on.

And, because she’s the most wonderful sister in the world, of course, she did. And she got me another blanket. And she turned off the light.

Sigh. I’m only 26, people. I should not be falling asleep at a time when I could otherwise be reuniting with old friends, hanging out  with my sister and otherwise having fun. I should, in the words of Young Jeezy, “run these streets all day, I can sleep when I die.” Or at least, I should be able to walk to a perfectly decent vehicle, drive to a perfectly decent local pub/establishment and carry on conversations with perfectly normal other people.

But, as I thought about this, I wondered, is it getting older, or is it just that my priorities have shifted? I’m in town alone, since my husband has to stay at home studying like a fiend. I’m married, so I don’t have a reason to go out to bars looking for companionship. My 19-year-old sister isn’t going out, so it’s not necessarily that I’m ancient. Maybe I’m just not interested in going to a bar with my 22-year-old sister and her giggly friends, because I’m mature.

But, then, I just got another Halls from my purse, and decided, I’m old. And I will learn to live with it. I’d rather have my sweet husband and my comfy new house and my DVR full of Psych, and a pitcher of homemade sangria than a life filled with evenings out on the town because I don’t have any comforting reasons to stay home.


7 responses to “This is Why I’m Old

  1. Oh girl, it’s just that we’re mature and super cool. We aren’t old and lame. We’re just super smart and know better than to get goin’ out and such. Right? RIGHT? Sigh. I will keep telling myself that.

  2. At least once a week my husband or I will comment, “Gosh, we’re old.” But with age comes more responsibility and like you said, new priorities. You’re not alone, and I hate to break it to you but once kids comes along it’s 10 times worse!

  3. I’m 23 and do this too. I like to go out, but I’m also good with spending time at home with the husband, him playing video games, me on the couch next to him blogging and tweeting. I think as long as you’re not completely cutting out social time, you’re good. Also, will you share your sangria recipe? That sounds delicious!

  4. As an old married woman, my weekends typically revolve around chores, some kind of sports-related get-together and discussing torts cases with my husband.

    This is the story of my life.

    Also, I really wanted to go to a midnight showing of Harry Potter but then I realized I wouldn’t be able to stay up. Even for the beginning.

    • Ha! I feel the same way. I wanted to go to the late show Friday night, but then I thought to myself, “I’ll never be able to wake up for Down to Earth Abbey’s pampering party Saturday.”

      Such is life, post-undergrad.

  5. Yep, I am old too! And there’s nothing wrong with choosing a nice warm bed over going out now and then. It shows maturity and… responsibility to keep oneself well-rested!

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