27

So it turns out that 27 doesn’t feel that much different than 26.  I just did a wikipedia search for 27 and if my 27th year looks anything like this list I’m not sure what will happen to me.

Those two weeks before my birthday were a little rough while I realized that my career is a dead-end, my boyfriend is still my boyfriend and I live in an awful little town in an awful little area called Orange County.

But then the actual day came and it was pretty sweet.  Early morning presents and cards and then a very relaxing day watching bad crime drama and The Little Mermaid.  Knowing that no one at work would give a damn about my birthday I opted to stay at home instead of showing up for 10 hours.

27 is the new 26, right?

We were in Seattle this weekend for my cousin’s wedding and while at breakfast with our lovely hosts Ralph Macchio was described as having kids “our age”.  I laughed becasue Ralph Macchio can’t be old enoug to have kids in their late 20s (turns out, though, he probably could have if he started early) and she said, “Well, early 20s” and then we all sighed deeply at the thought that we were clearly in our late 20s.

Oh, man, I hope I get over this by the time I’m 30.  Perhaps then I’ll have finally settled into a completely fulfilling (emphasis on the complet part of that because, while my life is mostly fulfilling, it’s not completely) life and the thought of growing old won’t automatically lead to thoughts of Holy fucking shit I’m going to die someday because, really, even though that’s true it’s still a long way off.

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