Thirty-Something and Irons

Waking up early is fine when I have a set schedule. I consider waking up at five a.m. on a work day running late. But on Sunday morning I prefer six. So I was already grumpy this past weekend.

But once I got into the Sunday rhythm I shook off the five and drank some coffee; toddled around my apartment; cleaned a bit; took out the trash.

They sneaked in behind me:

Signs that I'm a grownup:

• Sunday morning's big event: I screwed hardware into my wall.
• I spent so long ironing curtains that my auto-shut-off-iron auto shut off. Twice.
• I ironed curtains.
• I own an iron.
• My iron has an automatic shut-off feature.
  

It's not so bad, being an adult. It's the getting old that disturbs. Sometimes I ramble. Did you really care that I awoke early this weekend? I took a long shower Sunday morning because I couldn't remember whether I'd conditioned my hair. Or, actually, even washed it. (So now you understand my auto-shut-off iron.) Later, I panicked when I realized I'd left my cellphone on the train. As adrenaline rushed me I hurriedly finished the cellphone conversation I was having so I could go back and retrieve...my...cellphone.

Indeed.