Another thing I have realized, I have lived on the same street (minus a week) and have had the same phone number for two years! Now that must be a sign of maturity. I have lived in more places than a fifty-year-old cockroach. From one town to another, to the other side of town, to a totally different state, to the other side of the state, and back to square one … (wow, I just realized how much I sound like I was living a cockroach life … ) I actually have a file box—because I have important documents. It really amazes me. I am growing up. Even my personal relationships seem to be getting better and better. I am sure that this is the reason for my continued employment and lived in apartment.
Man, that means I am getting old, doesn’t it? No more club hoping with the girls, or strutting around the neighborhood like I am queen shit … there’s no more running the streets, smoking cigarettes in the bathroom at school, or starting fights just for fun. No more reckless behavior. Mini skirts, hooker boots, red lipstick—you are for the young, not the young at heart. Good-bye to the cat calls that used to follow me down 4th and the guys that just wanted me for my booty.
Hello to the routines of grown up life. Work, cook, laundry, clean, sleep, repeat. It can only get better, right?
PREVIOUS PAGE
