Okay, maybe I exagerrated a tad. I'm not that old. I'm 45. Although some days it may as well be 45 in dog years. My eyes, in particular, are making me feel ancient. When exactly did I lose the ability to read without glasses? Some of my classmates graduated from high school with my son. Thank God most of my professors are older than me. I get the jokes my classmates miss.
I'm dating my math professor. Okay, former math professor. It doesn't feel as forbidden as it would were I twenty years old. It does, however, grant me access to the monthly wine tastings hosted by some of the other faculty members. Wine is good.
I thought my age would make college easier. It has not. My synapses aren't firing the way they used to and chemistry isn't any more interesting to me today than it was 25 years ago. I'm still afraid of bunsen burners.
I tried being a nursing major. This was a mistake of epic proportions. I hated the classes so much, they made me cry. What's worse is, I never really wanted to be a nurse. I just wanted to earn a nurses salary. Bad approach. Very bad. So I'm back to being an English major and praying to the publication gods that I never have to ask someone if they'd like fries with their order.
That's all I have for now. You see, the real reason for this blog entry was not to reach out to you, my readers, but to avoid reading Byron for just a bit longer. Of course, that's not to say I'm not grateful to anyone who has taken the time to read this. I am beside myself with gratitude. Really, I am.
Nine - I left Lilly Tomlin in because we don't have a pet, and sometimes I pretend she's my mom.Today, Jeff and I have been married nine years. [Hold for applaus...
5 months ago