Good times....good times.
Needless to say, good times were had. Hopefully by all.
My birthday has come and gone. I'm 25. And in my old age, I've started to reflect on what I've learned in my life. Long ago, a wise old man, after discovering my age (21) and situation (single and alone), said to me, "Get thee to a nunnery." I should have listened to his words then, but it's not too late. I've packed my bags for the morning train. Off to the nunnery I go.
Seriously though, my birthday was perfect. I got to see and talk to all the people I care about, mostly while eating large quantities of scrumtrulescent food. Who could ask for anything more?
You heard me. Only one day and it's here. The day I've been dreading is coming and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's like the ginormous boulder on Indiana Jones, but with no way of escaping. It's going to run me over and kill my face. What is this horrendous catastrophe looming on the horizon, you wonder? Well, it's my birthday on Tuesday. Usually, this is a joyous occasion and cause for a major celebration...or ten. Not this time. I'm turning 25 and I might as well be dead. Not only will I have to check the "25-30" age box on forms, but with this age comes the hideous label... old maid.
