So 37 feels different, for some reason...and not just because I've thrown my back out and feel like some geriatric octogenarian. No, it's like being on the far side of anything; it just feels closer to...something...something ominous. Not even 40, necessarily. It's just that when I separated at 34, I was still on the near side of anything. And now, a measly three years later, when I tell people how old I am, they say, "Really? You don't look it!" As if that, somehow, is a compliment. But it's not, is it? Because what it means is, "Wow, I didn't think you were that old!" So then I'm forced to keep on insisting that I really and truly, honestly, no bullshitting, am 37, as ancient as that may seem.
And now I have a mouse in my kitchen.
It sucks being 37.
