1. You have started to refer to the (loud!) university students who recently moved into the complex next to yours as “those dang college kids.” The ironic thing? Your husband says the same thing, even though he is actually still in college as well (albeit in his last semester).
2. You get disproportionately anxious if you go out to dinner past six o’ clock, complaining of the crowds, the noise, and especially, the lack of the early bird special. To you, there is nothing better than a diner at about 4:45 P.M., when it’s just you and all the (real) senior citizens.
3. It no longer bothers you when people refer to you as “ma’am.”
4. You go to bed before nine regularly, sleep poorly, and wake up before 6 A.M.
5. When hearing about your husband’s shenanigans in junior high, you pointedly tell him that had he pulled such stunts in front of you as a teacher, he would have at least gotten lunch detention. When he tries to explain that all boys roughhouse growing up and that it was funny to trip his friends in the halls, you give him your best icy-teacher glare, as if encouraging him to think carefully about his actions.
Sadly, I am guilty of every last one of these in the last week (three out of five happened in the last 24 hours alone).
Apparently I’m a 72-year-old woman living in a 27-year-old body.
No big deal.
Another bad sign I’m getting a bit crotchety?
It’s only noon, and I feel like I’ve heard enough whining and chattering and stupid questions to set me off ’til next Thursday.
So this is what comes with turning 28 this month, I guess…