Like a stale cracker
I think I'm turning into an old woman far too early. See, I'm only 25 but sometimes I think I act somewhere in between the ages of 50 to 75, depending on how young and spry I feel that particular day. It's becoming alarming. And we'll just see if the comments are any indication of my friends' opinions on the matter. I'm almost positive that they'll wholeheartedly agree. (Um, guys? Be gentle, okay?)

Symptoms of Elderlytitis, or more commonly, "Becoming a Stale Cracker"

Becoming Withdrawn
I was never a big partier, even in my younger high school and college days. I wasn't exactly hibernating in a cave, but compared to the rest of my peers, I'm guessing that my social calendar for the entire year could have been crammed into just one month of theirs. And definitely a very short month, like February. I suppose I could blame this on a number of things, like being busy working and studying (because gasp! getting a B was blasphemous!). But I think the reality is that it just didn't interest me a whole lot. I enjoyed going out every once in a while, but because I was one of the only 14 people in the world to not drink before turning 21, I always felt like an outsider at these parties.

Even now when I go out with Nick or friends, the 75-year-old woman in me is always ready to leave at about 10:30 or 11:00 because you know, I gotta get home to polish my walker and style the hair on all of my cats.

In all honesty, even though I really do want to do things and see things and experience stuff, sometimes I just want to curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate (preferably this one because you can have warm, melty cookies, too) and wear these (please don't laugh too hard, I do own a pair in red and I think they are purely awesome) and read or watch TV with my fave person in the whole world. Okay, sorry, it's getting mushy now. I'll stop.

Complaining of Aches and Pains
This one can be attributed to the fact that Nick and I started working out at a real! live! gym! about a week ago. Even though it's very welcoming and I don't feel like I'm out on display in front of all sorts of really buff and beautiful people, I still don't want any of my fellow workout comrades to see me have a heart attack halfway through my first mile. So I force myself to show off, even though I pay for it later. Ouch.

Disdain for Driving
Okay, so I don't really hate it, especially now that we have Kenneth (what? don't you name your cars?). I do get nervous in rush hour traffic, so that would be every single day for those of you who are counting. I hate changing lanes, especially four at a time, so I always do it miles before I have to. I mean, what if no one at all will let you over, even if your car is stylish and practical, yet sporty?

I could certainly do without driving altogether. Or maybe I could just get a personal driver and name him, too.

Excessive Entering of Contests/Sweepstakes
I'm kind of embarrassed about this one. Nick and I happen to partake in our neighborhood Starbucks way too often. Really, it's quite sad. However, that's not what I'm embarrassed about (although I should be at the frequency!). What's embarrassing is that there's this dumb little locally-produced newspaper thing, "to be enjoyed over coffee," that is printed weekly and distributed in several stores and coffee shops. I'd link to them so you could catch up on your trivia and quotes and community events, but I don't want them to find out I called them dumb on here and disqualify us from the contest. ha!

They have this contest each week and the winner gets $25. The winner's name also gets printed in an ad the following week. The first time I saw this, I figured no one was really reading this, so I had a pretty good chance of winning. I sneaked one out of the store and sent in Nick's name and information so that he would look like a big weirdo for taking the time to enter this thing. Sadly, he didn't win. I let a few weeks go by without even thinking about it again. Then we were looking through the paper on a day when we happened to pick it up, and saw in the ad that no one had won the previous week because no one even entered. That's when I thought that we needed to do something about that. And that brings us to about the last 10 weeks or so, when I've been religiously entering this dumb contest for our $25, and we've never won.

Do you think that this little newspaper contest is just the gateway to my Elderlytitis-infected self sending out for hundreds of Publishers Clearing House magazines? Because I'm a little worried.

I suppose I could think of several more symptoms of how I'm becoming a stale cracker, but I'm sure you're already thinking about never reading my blog again so I'd better stop now, while I still have you. By the way, leave me a comment if you want to join my bridge club or if you have any extra coupons I could take off your hands. Much appreciated.


Anonymous husband said...

To testify, those foot duvets are really comfortable. I could not walker around (get it, ha-ha) without them. My 75-year-old alter ego wears them when he goes out to yell at the damn neighborhood kids for walking on the lawn.

Anonymous Meredith said...

I have to say, I feel old too, even though I have been known to shake my booty until the wee hours of the night on occasion. My oldness comes from things like bunions (I have them), always trying to succeed at getting eight hours of sleep, watching Nick at Nite, staying in on a Friday night to watch new TV programming, wearing large unflattering underwear (that's super embarrassing), and watching the Hallmark Channel. I am obsessed with Matlock. And made-for-TV movies. I also cringe at the smell of smoke, so it's a great thing that Cali is mostly smoke-free. I also hate driving...

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