So I just realized that I’m turning 30 on Friday. I remember when I was 18 thinking that 30 was going to be this huge effing deal, that if I ever turned 30 I was going to be old and weird and a soccer mom or something. Instead, I feel pretty meh about my impending third decade.
As it stands, I’m still tragically hip (as in it’s tragic that nobody appreciates how hip I am), childless for the time being (provided Plan B works as well as I hope (fingers crossed)), I’m still relatively unfettered, and I generally do what I please. I don’t miss being 18 even a little.