The Year I Realized I Was Old

Ages ago when Holly, Lynnette, and I were roommates, Holly and I used to give Lynnette an inordinate amount of grief about going to bed early. Can you imagine going to bed before 11:00 pm? Ridiculous. Lynnette usually blamed her inability to stay awake longer than us on the fact that she was "old." I would often guffaw and whisper a silent pledge to myself to never let myself get old. I was a night owl and always would be. Or so I assumed.

This year, I spent New Year's Eve with Lora and Holly in Mesa, and without batting an eye we partied the night away and didn't crawl into our beds until 4:00 am. We awoke at 9:30 am to hit Dillard's for their big sale, and I grumpily dragged myself about the store, hardly able to care about a single thing. We returned to Lora's after an hour, and crashed. And I mean crashed. I spent most of New Year's Day in bed unable to move. Mostly I had no desire to move. It felt like I hadn't slept in a week. Sadly, we came to realize that perhaps such long nights of pointless shenanigans were behind us. We had become old as Lynnette had claimed she had become.

Maybe being old will be okay. Maybe needing to get enough sleep will be good for me. Maybe keeping regular hours will be nice.

Besides all that sleep business, I have also realized that this is my "very adult year." I will be officially graduated from grad school in May, which will hopefully lead to an adult job. I have decided to finally get my license flipped because I have been over 21 for a while now. I am going to write that blasted novel I've been meaning to write for years. I am going to establish some routines. I am going to read those books I haven't read because I have been too busy with school. I am going to save that money I have been meaning to save. All that grownup sort of jazz.

Maybe it won't be so bad.