I Think I'm Getting Old

I've reached a new low.

Last week on Friday night I decided to stay home and watch TV, rather than heading out on the town.

That in itself is bad enough - apparently, at the ripe old age of 26, the work week is just so exhausting that I have no energy left by the time the weekend rolls around. Instead, I now need a full 24 hours to rest up BEFORE hitting the bar. In my defense, this is the time of year when I travel a lot, and if I give it a few more weeks, I'm sure I'll return to my more lively, ready to rally at anytime self (I hope).

Anyway, it gets worse.

As I planned a blissful night with my DVR, catching up on such sophisticated television as "One Tree Hill," "Life Unexpected" and "The Bachelor," I decided a six-pack of my favorite hard cider and some cookies would really make the evening perfect.

I headed off to my local Giant in comfy sweatpants and favorite Mizzou sweatshirt, compromised with Woodchuck in place of Hornsby's (which this store apparently does not carry - mental note for next time), and headed to the register, grabbing the new US Weekly on the way (Vienna & Jake: Dark Secrets!).

The cashier rang up all my loot and - GASP - did NOT card me! How can this be? The grocery store always requests an id for booze - I think the birth date actually has to be entered into the computer to finish the sale.

Am I really so old and haggard that my being of legal drinking age is no longer even slightly questionable? Seriously?

This does not bode well for the chances of my aging gracefully. I think I need to go look up the latest on Botox - stat.