30 is Coming

     It’s raining. You hold an umbrella over your head for 10 minutes. A sharp pain shoots through your arm and down your lower back.

30 is coming.

     Winter time. You wear socks to bed because it’s cold all the time. You hear a crash in the middle of the night. Intruders? Cats? You jump out of bed and your socks connect with the hardwood floor of your room, sending your legs in two different directions. Groin pull. And not the good kind.

30 is coming.

     It’s your high school reunion. 10 years. You show up looking really nice. You find out that the nerd group you may have disrespected a few times growing up are now all doctors and engineers and own their own houses. You have to leave early so you can give your cat her heartworm medication before she falls asleep. Also, you’re wearing sweatpants under your dress pants.

30 is coming.

     You are at home in the dark, watching a scary movie alone. You have a glass bowl of popcorn in your lap. JUMP SCARE! The bowl smacks you in the face, knocking a tooth out and causing your neck to snap back. Whiplash.

30 is coming.

     You’re outside. It’s a little wet out. You take your dog to the lawn across the street. She goes to the bathroom. You were going to take her for a walk, but it’s raining. It’s gross out. You go home and look at the clock. It’s 1:30 PM. You went outside. That’s worthy of a nap.

30 is coming.

     Your favourite reality show isn’t on tonight because of some stupid political debate. You leave an angry comment online. Now what are you supposed to do tonight?

30 is coming.

     The grocery store is out of your go-to kind of bagged salad, but lettuce is on sale. You don’t eat tonight.

30 is coming.

     You write a list of things that sound pathetic, but every joke has some sort of truth to it.

30 is coming.


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