As of last Saturday I am twenty six years old – that’s a really grown up number. I suppose that, when compared to some twenty six year old people, I sort of have my shit together. Of course, that’s only some of them. I suppose I could be an attorney, medical student, movie star… that would be much more impressive. I think back now to the milestones that I have accomplished and they suddenly seem much more serious than they did when they were happening.
- I have been married for five years. FIVE of them.
- I own a house (or at least half of one).
- I buy cars like they are going out of style.
- I own four pets.
- I finished college.
- I have a career (for now).
How is it that I am old enough to have any of these things? Because I am twenty six, that’s how. Twenty six is just past the age when you tell someone how old you are and they reply “Oh, you’re just a baby!” My dear and gentle friends, I am not a baby any more. Long passed are the days where was the youngest person in the office. In fact, I just learned that my boss and I are the same age. Good grief!
That statement finds me wanting badly to launch into a boorish diatribe about my work situation, but perhaps I will save that for another day. I want to stay positive because I am twenty six years old, and I am happy. SO happy and proud of what I have accomplished thus far. SO happy and hopeful for the things I have yet to accomplish. Also, hopeful that I will not put my foot in my mouth for using the word “hope”.
As they say, “Hope is a demon bitch”.
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