Perhaps: You’re Newly Thirty

Turning 30, I’d heard, was the worst.  It would supposedly be tougher than 40 . . . 30 would be confirmation that you are – so completely – an adult who only gets to have fun one night at a time because two consecutive “fun” nights will kick your ass directly into a week of self-loathing hatred for your “youthful decisions” and bothersome physical side effects.  The best of the wild times and spontaneous decisions have given way to regimented, Swiss precision planning and a heaping pile of “bored.”

Maybe that’s what 30 means. Your choice, I guess. I’ll pass.

BUT DO NOT TRY TO SERVE ME MY OATMEAL AFTER 6:45AM FOR REAL I’VE KILLED FOR LESS WHERE ARE MY MULTI-VITAMINS?! HOLY SHIT WHY DOES MY BACK HURT I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

La esposa makes the jump today, but with far more grace than one could imagine. A tribute to age and aging. Yippee…

REMIX!

FORESHADOWING!

Note: How incredible is that picture? The subtle commentary on aging + our own provision of a Dawson’s Creek pic says everything. We’ll see you all at the gym. What? On the elliptical OF COURSE! Oh, but we can’t chat long because we have to hit the specialty foods store for organic salad noodles on the way home.  All the rage.  /nooooooo
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