I am getting really old.
I don’t mean that I noticed a gray hair or wrinkling skin around my eyes. I’m sure those are around somewhere, but those don’t worry me much since “you’re only as young as you feel!”
I feel old.
Worrying about 401K contributions and which healthcare plan to pick and whether or not I’m getting enough fiber is an old person thing, I think. Sometimes I even watch the news – on purpose!
11-year-old Sarah could not understand how my parents wanted to watch the news over The Simpsons (actually, I still don’t understand that particular choice). How could they think Nirvana wasn’t good music when it spoke directly to my soul?
I’m going to come out and say it – I don’t get Jersey Shore. These people are not interesting. The show is not interesting, and not even in the way The Hills was infuriatingly uninteresting.
I also don’t get the deal with Justin Bieber. I love bad music. I have the worst taste in music out of everyone you’ll ever meet. I find his music unlistenable. (I still wish I could tell him how effortless his hair looks.)
Worst of all, I pounded on the floor after my neighbor was playing music at 2am Sunday night. (Actually, I don’t even care if this makes me mentally 80. It’s Sunday night, turn the music down!)
This is how it starts. I didn’t realize that this blog was sending me down the path of oldness! First I started worry about my debts, and now I’m so old that I don’t even recognize the pregnant teenagers on the fronts of tabloids!