I have decided, for a kick in the butt, to join NaBloPoMo, and see how it goes. We're going to Cali next week, so we'll see if I can keep it up. Wish me luck, and keep checking in, because I plan to spill it for you, all month long. (That sounded dirty--not what I meant. But we'll see how the month goes. I may get desperate.)
I made a stunning realization today, one that I am still not entirely convinced of. I can't believe I am this stupid and I have to caveat this with the comment that I am really, really, really bad at math. Really bad.
I've been moping around (ok, mostly in my head, but still) thinking about my age, and how I could be at mid-life, and blah blah blah. Only to discover today, when my profile calculated my age, that I'm actually 33 and not 34, like I've been thinking. How do I not know my age!!?? I'm a little sad that I've reached that point in my life where I don't remember how old I am reflexively, automatically.
Here's an example of how convinced I was of my age: Mr. Bump and I were sending a card to my lovely friend, and he said something about her turning 33, and I said no, she was the same age as me, we were the same age so she must be turning 34. I made her older because I thought I was older. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Arnold. I never meant to hurt you like that even if it was only in conversation with Mr. Bump. I'm just really. bad. with the numbers.
And I must, say, I'm kind of pissed about it. I can't believe I've frittered away months--months!-- of my 33rd year thinking I was 34!
I'm such a fucking idiot.
See you tomorrow.