I finally realize the meaning of that old clichÃ©: â€œIâ€™m too young to be this old.â€ I swear I was just twenty-one a minute ago.
I (semi) joke to my husband that I missed the full effect of my 30th milestone because I was busy going into labor (our older daughterâ€™s birthday is the next day). Therefore, it feels like the last two decades just came plowing into me at once.
But overall, I feel pretty darn good. The platelet count is holding steady. I have an amazing family. And, despite the last year of less-than-stellar industry-wide mojo, Iâ€™m doing my dream job. Not bad.
Still, I really thought I was above the whole getting older nonsense; alas, Iâ€™m not immune. Short of acquiring a convertible and a 20-year-old blonde floozy-on-the-side (Sven), Iâ€™m happy to play it low-key. As usual, Iâ€™m satisfied to document the whole thought process in this weekâ€™s strips.
If youâ€™re turning the big fuh, fuh, fuh this year as well, I hope the series resounds well with you. If youâ€™re still enjoying the glow of youthâ€¦well, get over it. Itâ€™ll be your turn, too.