I’m not one to inherently feel older after a birthday, but I think 28 is having an affect on me.
On Monday I was SO sleepy, so sluggish, so creaky and achy, so edgy – with absolutely no just cause whatsoever.
But that’s not the biggest side effect of 28.
Apparently, one “perk” of turning 28 is to start spilling things more often than a toddler.
Don’t believe me? Let me recap:
Saturday; Day Two of being 28 years old:
Chris and I were eating dinner in Chattanooga. I had lemonade. While we were eating dessert, I managed to somehow knock my (very full) glass. It spilled lemony goodness all over the table, dessert, and my lap, which of course seeped onto my butt, on my legs, shoes, AND my purse.
And of course we were in a nice restaurant. A very full one. With people who liked to laugh at others, sitting just across the aisle from us.
Sunday Morning: Day Three of new age:
We’re having breakfast at the B&B. The General Himself is sitting at our table talking to us. I pick up the carafe to pour myself some more coffee. I leave my cup on the table and begin to pour.
However, the trajectory of the spout was grossly under-estimated on my part.
I vigorously pour coffee two inches past my cup – and straight onto Chris’ knee, leg, and feet. And, because things like this always happen in slow motion, it seemed like I KEPT pouring for a couple of seconds before I was jolted back to reality by his attempts-at-letting-out-a-manly-yelp-in-front-of-The-General.
He mumbled something about it being quite hot while I apologize profusely and dab at his leg.
Sunday Night: STILL Day Three:
Chris and I are getting ready to go to bed from our cozy spots on the couch. I go to sit up, and my blanket jumps off of my legs and attacks my drink on the coffee table. Knocks it over, of course. Onto the blanket, coffee table, floor, and me.
I spent many a morning frantically shaking my keyboard upside down and splattering the office carpet with coffee in hopes of getting all of the gooeyness out of it before it stuck my E key, thrby causing all of my sntancs to look lik this.
In fact, I am pretty sure that if I remember correctly, I spilled my full cup of hot coffee on my boss-who-hated-coffee’s keyboard within a few weeks of starting my job, at the too-young-to-be-drinking-coffee-anyway age of 16.
(Sue? Remember that? Thanks for not killing me on the spot.)
Eh, maybe it’s not 28 after all.
Maybe it’s just me.