The following events of the past few weeks have conspired to make me feel old:
- ChattyCathy, the receptionist at work, majorly stressing about being single, childless and turning 26 at the end of the month. Yes, you read that right, 26. She is seriously concerned about it, which makes me roll my eyes and tell her to stop it, because I'm 3 months from 29.
- Playing a Getting-To-Know-You game at a Young Women's activity on Wednesday and seeing 8 blank faces when I tell them my She-Ra action figures were my favorite toy as a child. They also have no idea who He-Man, the Thundercats, or Jem (She's Totally Outrageous!) are. My 21 year-old sister-in-law has no idea who Jem is either.
- Getting excited enough to dance on Friday because I got my insurance card and could make an appointment with the optometrist. Yeah, I know.
- Standing in line at Wal-Mart (I hate this store with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, but it is all my little town has) for 20 minutes and all the while mentally grousing about all the underdressed people. Wearing something that looks like a glorified bathing suit and/or pajamas is not acceptable. At All.
- Not bothering to go see the new Harry Potter movie for at least a week because I don't want to deal with the crowds.
Please tell me this is not the beginning of the end. I haven't even seen Paris yet! Paris, France that is, not the skank that is ruining America and corrupting our youth.