Two years ago, one of my Vacation Bible School students nudged her compadre and said, "You gotta listen to Miss Lucy; she's a grown-up." That actually shocked me.
I feel very satisfied when my apartment is clean, the fridge and pantry are full, the laundrey is done, and I am able to sit with my feet up and read. Not that this happens often. But still.
I worry about things like high cholesterol, interest rates on my IRA, delivery charges for furniture, and other boring stuff.
All of my husband's best friends are married. Some of them are having children. Whoa.
I have a husband in the first place.
I actually go to bed before midnight...
I worry about things like conserving power and water, eating more vegetables, and consuming enough fiber.
Fiber? Really?
I actually go to grown-up salons where they offer mesparkling water, and ask me questions about my hair-care regimine-no more $7 Fantastic Sam's cuts.
I get disproportionately excited about double-coupon day.
I have someone that does my taxes for me.
Why am I an adult? When did this happen? Can I go back to the days of Brownie Girl Scout meetings, graham crackers and apple juice for an after-school snack, and having crushes on the Backstreet Boys? Please? sigh.
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When I visit, I will give you graham crackers and apple juice for an afternoon snack!
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