Good morning/afternoon/evening oh dear, dear readers. You may be aware, or probably not, that in one week I am turning 30.
Thirty. Three decades old. Oooooold.
Pardon me for a second while my face melts into a sad little puddle on the floor.
Okay, I’m back.
That said, I am not so deluded as to believe that 30 is actually old old. I realize I’ve most likely still got more than half my life ahead of me and besides, Piet turned 30 two years ago and he’s still mostly youthful and vivacious. On his good days. Hehehe.
But, I’ve come to realize that thirty is pretty much the end of any sort of ability to have anything you say/do/decide be attributed to the “young” factor. I am no longer a young adult. I’m just an adult. Supposedly I’m supposed to have gleaned enough from the past decade or so to have my act together.
Or at least effectively pretend that I do.
Fortunately for me the day I turn 30 is also our first wedding anniversary. And with any luck, who knows, maybe I’ll go into labor and we can just forget my birthday all together!
But you guys know me well enough by now. I don’t forget.
I dwell so hard I think it can be considered a psychological condition.
So, I’ve decided this week will be a commentary on turning 30. What better way to spend my last week in my twenties than to reflect a bit and dwell on turning 30?