As of yesterday, I am officially a non-teenager. I am now a youngish old-timer. An ex-juvenile, if you will (although that’s somewhat criminal sounding. I swear officer, I only went swimming in the university fountain that one time. It won’t happen again. Probably.)
I celebrated fabulously, by watching approximately 1 gajillion episodes of House and eating cake that I made in the crock pot. This is apparently how you party hard when you are old and decrepit. My roommate and I are also conspiring to buy matching power chairs to roll around campus in, as our quickly deteriorating joints can no longer handle walking 500 miles to class. Professors do not apparently like it when you fall down at their classroom doors. (10 points to Gryffindor if you caught that reference. Yay 80s music).
Catch you later interwebs– I have medicaid forms that I need to go fill out.