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Don't Call Me Kevie

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Signs that you're getting old. Blah.
My Tree thanks to slodwick
erika_sanely
Two things in the last few weeks that have shown me that time is creeping up behind me.

The first one was when I was in Adelaide. My cousin was going out to the movies with a bunch of her friends, and asked me to come along. This always makes me happy, as I am always slightly surprised when people want to hang with me. There's nothing wrong with me - it's just that I can't imagine why someone would want to be friends with me. I'm strange. But I'm digressing.

I was about to say Yes when she mentioned the movie wasn't starting until 2130. That's getting a bit late for this little black duck. By the time the actual movie starts, and you get out the the car park, and back home, and blah blah blah it ends up being a very late night. Part of me was concerned that the sleep-in I would want the next day would cut into my shopping time, and the other part of me was worried about the fact my recovery time these days is incredibly piss-weak. A late night (even one sans-alcohol) makes me feel like blah for the rest of the day. So I stayed home and was in bed by the reasonable hour of 2200. On a positive note, the next day I spent 5 hours shopping in the heart of Adelaide, so the rest I got was put to great use.

The second sign of age was yesterday. Blink182 are going to be in Adelaide 13th March. My birthday is the 14th, my cousin is the 10th and her best friend is the 12th, so I've bought us tickets to go see the band. Whilst buying the tickets a had the choice between seats and being on the floor with the possibility of getting close to the stage. The first thought to streak through my brain was "Oh - better get the seats. My knees wouldn't stand up to the constant jumping around on the floor."

Since when does someone young worry about the state of their knees? Since when does someone young even realise they have knees?

I remember the nights that I didn't think were that long ago where I'd be out at a pub somewhere, working out in my head that if at the end of the night I did a few peppermint schnapps shooters I'd save about five mintues by not having to brush my teeth,so I wouldn't have to go home until 5am. On days when I'd be due at work at 7am. And if I walked the 5kMs home in heels instead of grabbing a taxi I could afford a packet of Winnie Blues, Where did those days go? Where?

I'm not sure if I miss those nights more or my knees.

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