Where'd ya get those fancy clothes?

Even if I was wearing fancy clothes (which I am definitely NOT) my evening's activities were not black-tie worthy.

Sometimes I think I am the world's worst twenty-something. Seriously. It is Saturday night and I am in a grubby t-shirt and leggings eating yogurt, berries, and granola. Those are not Saturday night clothes or Saturday night foods. I'm so lame.

There was a moment tonight while I was scrubbing out the garbage can (yea. YEA. Eww.) when I realized I was growing up. Mostly, it was the voluntary scrubbing of a disgusting garbage can. Only adults do nasty things like that on a "oh, I suppose I should do that" basis. AND I DID IT ON A SATURDAY. Boy, hello Dorthy, Blanche, Sophia, and Rose. (That was a Golden Girls reference for all of you cool-kids who have cool-kid things to do...why are you reading this blog?)

All dreams-of-being-a-cool-kid aside, I like having days where all I do is laundry, wash dishes, and munch granola. It's relaxing and with a decent soundtrack (The Black Keys) it can even be fun.

Speaking of The Black Keys, they're the title of the day! Wahoo!

Age only matters in cheese

I am twenty years old. This means I have been a human being on Planet Earth for twenty years. Biologically, that is my age. But if we were to to figure out ages of maturity and the age of the soul, I think my number would be far away from twenty.

See, I have the maturity of a four-year-old boy. I laugh at the dumbest jokes (Dad) and would rather be playing in the dirt than being at work (or really, anything.) Cartoons are favorite forms of entertainment and I love junk food shaped like a dinosaur.

My soul must be in the upper eighties. I love to knit, bake, and sit at home on a Friday night in my PJs and not socialize with peers my own age. That is just far too much effort and there is usually a Golden Girls marathon playing on Fridays.

Priorities people.