You know you’re old when you prefer to read on an iPad - as opposed to a printed book - because you’re able to adjust the font size larger. Some of the fiction novels I’ve bought have absolutely the tiniest font possible. (Shrinkflation?) When it becomes painful to read a book, it’s time to switch the medium. I’m just happy to live in a era where digital is a possible alternative.
This must be the beginning of retinal deterioration from old age. I should order myself a set of readers soon…
Sometimes I forget I am heading right into the meaty parts of middle-age adulthood. I just don’t feel it, you know? Which is a good thing because I rather not have my body be the notifier of my current location on the lifespan spectrum. If anything, I am trying to maintain my mobility and strength for as long as possible. Though nothing to be done about the oculars. I’ve needed glasses since I was then.
I reckon part of the reason I don’t feel like I’m a middle-age adult is because I haven’t yet done the traditionally middle-age adult things. No house, no spouse, no kids. I’m effectively living out a prolonged early adulthood. The only responsibility I’ve got is to me. All the childhood trauma and anxieties are still there stewing in the background. Because my mind isn’t completely preoccupied with raising a home.
Sometimes I would talk to people in their twenties and it would seem like I’m the less mature one. That I’m the one lacking in lived experiences in comparison. Then sometimes I really feel my age when I realize I’m older than everyone on an NFL football team. I guess laps around the sun doesn’t automatically confer confidence or worldliness. There’s got to be many action to make those sort of growth happen. Age can be just a number.
What the heck is a holiday cut?