At 11:00 PM last night, I spent the last hour of my twenties getting stoned, eating pistachios and watching old episodes of "The Office" on Netflix.  My last milestone birthday was my 21st, and all that made me reflect on was how well I could handle my alcohol.  This one had a little more in-depth introspection.

I've determined I shouldn't spend my thirties wishing I was still in my twenties, because I'll wake up on my fortieth birthday before I know it, wishing I was still in my thirties. Ten years don't last as long as they used to.  Time drags on when you're a kid, and then suddenly you can't hold onto it.  I hear high school kids talk about 2002 like it's ancient history while I wonder where it went.

And there I go, already rambling like an old lady...




Happy birthday to me.