Last night was my quarterly Girls Night Out in the city, and the food was great. MK, which had been on THE LIST (that’s not a good thing) since I’d been there eons ago when it first opened, was our destination, and we all had a great time. Great food, great drinks, and great company.
But it was also an eye-opening experience for me. I’m just not as young as I used to be.
Exhibit A: When exiting Metra at 6:30, I yawned. I was tired, and I debated caffeine, but then I decided that would just keep me up all night.
Exhibit B: I walked to MK, and about halfway there, I realized I had blisters forming on the balls of my feet. I kept walking. When I finally had to stop for a red light, my feet were burning. I thought aobut taking a picture to show you the massive blisters, but I spared you (you’re welcome). I used to walk a mile and a half to and from work on a daily basis in heels, regardless of the weather (and yes, this includes snow). Apparently, I’m a little old for that now.
Exhibit C: I used to order the foods that sounded interesting, knowing that if I didn’t love them, that was ok, but at least I tried something different. Last night, I went totally safe on dessert with their apple something or other. By the time it arrived, I regretted my choice of not going for the funky deconstructed “sorta” carrot cake. I used to be more interesting. Apparently I go beige in my old age.
Exhibit D: I no longer get on the Metra on my way home to scope out the seat I want because it’s my favorite place to sit. Now, I watch where the young obnoxious kids sit, and I choose a different car. I’m not just old; I’m a cranky curmudgeon.
I’m not quite ready for the asssisted living facility, but a few more years and I might need one at this rate!