Happy New Year . . . blah blaah BLAAAHH. I think I’m having a wee bit of trouble adjusting to a new decade. I mean, New Year’s is already enough pressure — what with the resolutions to be better and staying up until midnight. And then when it’s not just a new year but a new decade . . . geeze, it makes a person want to eat a lot of chocolate. Or drink.
This new decade is also making me feel old. I found a grey eye brow hair. EYE BROW. I didn’t even know that could happen. Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t know it could happen to me. And there’s a plethora of silver (which sounds better than gray) hairs on my head. These silver hairs were accentuated by the flash of the camera in all the holiday pictures making me look like an old Elven fairy. A big, old Elven fairy. Without the cool dress.
But the worst thing was having to write my age down for the first time. On a poop test label. No, it wasn’t as bad as the fecal test for Zoey
. My test didn’t come with poop shovels. My test was more of a small smear
. . . But it still involved poop. And on each slide I had to write my name and age. So, there I was, carefully writing the 3 and then very
carefully writing the 4 so it didn’t look like a 9. On a poop test. I mean, the whole thing would have felt totally different if I’d been filling out my age on, say, the winning lottery ticket*. But no. Really, really no.
I guess the good thing is that 2010 has no where to go but up.
* I totally stole this line from Kate. But she gave me permission because she loves me. And because I begged.