Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Last night I unintentionally cussed at a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses. They were going door-to-door in my complex ringing doorbells and sharing the good news. In the process, they riled up every dog in the neighborhood, particularly the two that live on either side of me. By the time they got to me, the dog in unit G was practically banging the door down trying to get to them (to lick and snuggle them to death, he's a big sweet puppy). When I opened my door, they said "it must be really noisy living here with all those dogs" and my automatic, no-filter response was "They just go ape shit when they hear the doorbells." Oops. Now that evangelists know that I'm a foul-mouthed heathen, they'll probably be back every week to save me.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Yesterday was my birthday. As far as birthdays go, it was a pretty good one, at least for me...but others seemed to be put off by it.
I don't understand why some people are so uncomfortable with age. Yesterday at the campus event I attended, I was asked "how does it feel to be 25?" I responded that "I don't remember because I celebrated a lot harder in those days, but 44 feels pretty awesome." In the same conversation someone else said "You can just be 29 again." WHY? I'm 44. More than a couple of people seemed to honestly recoil at me saying 44, like it's a dirty word. (And yet, they don't recoil when I say actual dirty words. And I do that. More than I should.)
I'M 44 Y'ALL. I have survived broken hearts and broken bones, car loans and car crashes. I have killed approximately two dozen goldfish and three dozen hair dryers. I have family and friends that keep me sane, despite the fact that I am an absolutely crazy (but generally-happy) person. All because I've lived 44 years. Not just 25. Not just 29. 44, y'all.