Okay, confession time. A co-worker at one of the many retail outfits I shuffled around in told me that the best year of your life would be the age that corresponds with the date of your birth. So, being born on June 25th would ensure that my 25th year was spectacular. Her evidence? She graduated from college and got married. That’s a pretty good year. Now, I realize the only people who are likely to believe in this insanity are those born in the last week and a half of any given month. Who is going to say, “Yeah, two was fun. I mean, I got teeth. That was pretty aces. Totally got to piss my pants all the time without judgment…yeah, looking back, I really had it all.”?
And I think it was a good year. This isn’t a blog where I get emotional (I have IRL 24/7 for that) so I won’t get into all the fears that I overcame, the major moves, the friendships rekindled and the happiness found. I think the round up will speak for itself:
I purchased and managed to hold onto an iPhone, I’m using more expensive mousse (the can specifically says “ballers only”), LOST ended, I got a new, real job I enjoy and I’m off the schnapps. (Schnappslessness is purely coincidental, even as I’m typing this I’m considering picking some up on the way home.) I left the country. I had my teeth cleaned once and am now officially ineligible to receive that last Gardasil shot. I guess I’ll be 2/3 less. Ha! Seriously though, according to research from the medical community, I am now at the age where I’m such a used-up bag of bones that I’ve statistically contracted HPV. I experienced a salary increase of 166% and despite the fact that I was on unemployment for six months of the year, I still got a tax return. The government paid me for the pleasure of my company this year. Thank you, USA. Good luck at the World Cup.
I lived in three cities. I spent the jobless summer wandering through the city and going to visit my partner in wandering on Martha’s Vineyard. I learned that while I cannot tell you the time in minutes to take the ferry to the Vineyard, it’s exactly how long it takes for Ashley and I to drink two beers and for her to eat one hotdog. I saw Madagascar 2. I went to the Harry Potter premier, I had an iffy relationship, I volunteered at the zoo, yo-yoed on an off Diet Coke, tried shrimp, swam in the ocean, and finally FINALLY got to enjoy the wonders of a swim up bar.
The power of suggestion could make you look at any year as the best year of your life. But overall, this one was pretty great.
And guys…I have a 401K.
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