Getting Old(er)

My son started kindergarten. He started school, real school, like, you're-trapped-for-the-next-17-years school. I now have to tell people what school my kid attends, not what pre-school, day-care, or babysitter he goes to. The calls from the PTA are coming. I can feel them hunting me, as a werewolf hunts that fresh kill. They'll want me to be one of them (shudders). 

I went to get my haircut at Great Clips. I looked in the mirror whilst being snipped and shorn. the baggy-eyed, unshaven visage that stared back at me looked more like something that belonged in a, well, in a PTA meeting or a concentration camp (sorry for the redundancy). I have grey hair, too. 

Every morning when I wake up my body is a little more sore and stiff than the day before. I worry about my cholesterol, how little I exercise, lamenting my inability to discipline myself to remedy the problem. I have a gut.

It is somewhat disquieting to get older, Not necessarily troubling, nor pushing me to the brink of a midlife crisis 10 years to soon, but disquieting to realize that you really are a grown-up. You realize that you are a heartbeat away from wearing plaid shorts with black socks and white shoes, moving to Florida and eating lunch at 10 AM.

Okay, so it isn't that bad, and I'm not torn up about growing older. Although a midlife crisis might be fun. Maybe I'll get a Harley...

shalom, matt