The Baskin-Robbins Age

Ten years ago today I wasn't feeling well. I was incredibly tired, bothered by bright lights, and in constant need of a bathroom. I don't feel the same way today, except maybe for the "incredibly tired" part. I suppose that's the difference between recovering from your 21st birthday and recovering from your 31st.

I don't want to spend this post complaining about my age, because I know in reality I'm not that old, even if I'm 217 in dog years. Yet I'm amazed that a decade has already passed since my 21st birthday. Granted, a number of things have changed. For example, back when I turned 21, my roommate and I had a beer display in our apartment:

That wouldn't work today, mostly because Jennifer won't approve of me adding a beer display to our current apartment, though I still believe it would look nice inside the china cabinet. No, instead our apartment today has a bear display:

And that, I suppose, is where the big difference lies: that whole "having a kid" thing. Otherwise I'd be able to say 31 is the new 21 and go back to sleeping until 4 pm. For Kyle, sleeping late means sleeping until the sun starts to rise. And that's on a good day. The night before my birthday he woke up at 3 am and cried for about 45 minutes. That was his birthday gift for me, and he wanted to make sure I appreciated it. Jennifer appreciated it, too.

That, of course, leads to another big difference between 21 and 31. Since I'm up so early, I'm having trouble staying up so late. When I turned 21, we stayed at our local pub until it closed, then went back to my apartment and partied there until I couldn't remember my name anymore. When I turned 31, I ordered take-out from the local pub, watched re-runs of "The Office," and was in bed by 11 pm.

Hmmmm... okay... so maybe I really am that old. I'm just glad I'm not a dog.