"The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. When the world seems familiar, when one has got used to existence, one has become an adult." ~Eugene Ionesco
This morning I did my usual Monday self torture. Wherein, I awake an hour late considerably enough to skip the gym and then I seriously contemplate getting up. Is it really that necessary to remove oneself from under a blanket? The best was awaking to a bedroom that ever so slightly resembled the aftermath of Hiroshima. Or more like Gap/J.Crew/Anthropologie decided to throw shit around my room. At any rate, it made getting dressed that much more difficult; finding my raincoat in my bottom drawer, not withstanding.
Meanwhile, in my head, I’m making great strides at recalling the weekend. Sure I remember the off color Klan jokes while driving through southeastern Pennsylvania at on Saturday evening. Oxford, PA had a little bit of a children of the corn thing going on. Most assuredly, I’m able to remember when I started drinking at on Friday and stopped somewhere around 1 at a Playboy themed party in Tenleytown, finally ending my evening at Steak n’ Egg. Saturday was the aforementioned trip to Pennsylvania and a night cap at Indebleu, because nothing says ‘I love my roommate’ like free grey goose and tonics.
A few weeks ago, I had lamented to my mother that everyday is the same. I wake up, make a half ass attempt at going to the gym, I go home, pretend to give two shits about my outfit, go to work for like many hours, go home; wash, rinse and repeat. Repeat for the next 40 something years. Which looking at it now, sounds so freaking awesome that I just can’t handle it. Even better? My mother deciding to call and remind me that it’s been a year ago (one year today) that I graduated from college, which is like being reminded that you’re turning 34 but with added head bashing and possibly a few cathartic tears into one’s Special K.
There’s also the sad realization that everything is different and yet the same from last year. Except now with less money, more snark and copious amounts of alcohol. The next 45 years should be awesome, like a frying pan to the head awesome.