18 years, 2 days and counting

I turn 32 on Wednesday. I usually don’t care too much about my birthday. Not since my 21st. Actually, 16 was probably a bigger one since I was drinking well before my 21st birthday but I wasn't driving a car before my 16th, unless driving it in the driveway counts.

Since I haven’t really cared too much about getting older I have been unpleasantly surprised by how much I am dreading this one. I thought I was supposed to get depressed on my 30th! 30 was great, 31 was insignificant but 32 seems to be knocking me on my ass and I can’t blame PMS. I think that 30 was exciting because I was on my way to being an adult. Now that I feel like I am one I would like to go back please. Now I’m just creeping up to 40.

I shouldn’t complain, I own my own home, have a good job that pays the bills (sort of), I have awesome friends and a wonderful family. I live in the best city and, hell, I’m dating a guy 7 years my junior! What’s not to be happy about?!?

I guess that since 50 is the new 30 I should be happy I’m going to be one year closer to 50 instead of two years farther from 30. Yeah, I’ll think about it that way! Of course if anyone wishes me a Happy Birthday on Wednesday I can’t guarantee I won’t slug them.