OK, so I'm like, turning 40 this summer.
I'm largely cool with it.  I would very much like to be out of this condo and in a house by then, but if that doesn't work, it isn't the end of the world.  And it isn't like I haven't done everything I could to move that situation along.  Sh*t happens.  We deal.  
But, other than that, yeah.  Largely cool with it.  Largely happy with life, current state of accomplishments, and so forth.  On a path that seems to be working for me.  Job good.  Cat cute.  Theatre critic thing workin' on the side.  Social life acceptable either way -- if I end up with someone, that's great; but I'm certainly having a good time being single, too.
The other day, though, I was toying with various ideas for a shindig of sorts to celebrate the end of my 30s.  Put together a quick list of folks who I'd want to invite.
And then I realized:  Holy crap.  With, like, two exceptions, all of my friends are married.
I'm not entirely certain when it happened.  (I should be -- I went to a lot of their weddings.)  Clearly I wasn't paying attention.  Somewhere over, say, the last 20 years, I've gone from having nearly all single friends to nearly all married friends.  
Huh.  Odd.
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1 comment:
I'm still voting for celebrating in Indy (not that you asked or anything). I promise you yummy food and wolves. And trees.
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