First of all, can you say POST THREE HUNDRED, people?!
Three hundred blog posts in just over a year. And this, my friends, comes from a girl whose adult-onset ADD is oftentimes so strong, she has difficulty remaining focused on things.
Like the wet load of laundry I am continually leaving in the washing machine, because I remember, right before I drift off to sleep in the late night hours, that MY WORD! THERE ARE CLOTHES IN THE WASHING MACHINE, WHICH NEVER MADE IT TO THE DRYER, AND NOW REWASHING WILL BE REQUIRED. This, people, happens almost weekly at the Jedi Manor.
The conservationists love me.
But really, I didn’t start this blog post to talk about the fact that HELLO! THREE HUNDRED BLOG POSTS WRITTEN! What I really wanted to talk about is the inevitable fact that I think I’m getting older.
The crowning moment of my maturity came last night, when the carpenter Hubs and I have hired to finish the built-in bookcase at our house called at 5:30, to see if he could come over and work on them for a bit, and I heard myself say, “You know, could we do it another night? Because I’m really planning to shut the party down around here and be in bed by 7:00.”
You know, right after I take my Metamucil and drop my teeth into a jar of water.
Granted, I’d been awake and upright and moving since 2:33 yesterday morning, due to the middle-of-the-night asthma attack. But still. I was as bad as any MeMaw I’ve ever met last night. I’m not sure anyone under the age of 25 would ever say, out loud, “I think the party’s shutting down early, so that I can crawl into bed by 7:00.” Especially when she’d been waiting for eons to get the bookcase built.
And the other thing?
A few weeks ago, I was reading through our options at the cinema, and I looked at Hubs and asked, point blank (and this is where you need to cover the eyes of those reading this blog who are under the age of fifteen), “What in the world is Jackass, and why would I want to see a donkey in 3D?”
There was that.
Hubs wanted to know if I get out much. He was surprised that I’d made it this long without having known about those movies.
Which are obviously not about donkeys at all, because they’re all about stupid stunts and pranks. I know this, because I Wikipediaed them.
(I love turning nouns into verbs with an -ed ending.)
And we all know that Wikipedia never lies.
And I can’t be that old if I have a full-on working knowledge of Wikipedia.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put my hearing aides in a drawer, park my Lincoln Continental in the garage, and go crochet a sweater vest.