Number 23

I'm not fond of the number 23, I've never been. Don't know what it is about that number. Maybe it's just the way it looks. I feel like its an old age. I'd rather be 24. I think that sounds younger. 

Every birthday up until this one I've always wished to be older. Looking forward to the increasing number. Not this one. 

The day of my 23rd birthday was filled with a lot of old things. I woke up at 6:30 am. On my day off. And this, was sleeping in. I ate quinoa for breakfast. As my best friend Katie put it "your going to need to start beginning your day with fiber from now on", thanks friend, just trying to, you know, keep myself regular. I then went on a walk, not to the gym, a walk outdoors...around the neighborhood. Thankfully I haven't advanced yet into all white tennis shoes with a thick sole. I finished my afternoon shopping. What did I buy you ask? Soap. For the kitchen sink. Old. 

Katie encouraged me to stay out past my 9 o'clock bedtime. I was set on closing the bars down. Not letting a drink get me tired.  How did I handle the alcohol? Like a train smashed into my aging body and the caboose did a double take on the way out. 

So sweet Brice made me a smoothie this morning as I got out of bed in slow motion. We're headed to the lake now for some 4th of July festivities. No car talk about the heat outside, grease, and most importantly cheese, even though I want cheese, so the conversation is limited. We stopped at the gas station for some saltines. They tasted disgusting. Old. Just like me. 

Thanks for reading passed my run on sentences and nagging. I can't wait to be 24 and young again but I'm 100% positive that this will be the best year yet.