the underwear drawer

30 is the new 70

I was on call Saturday morning (meaning pre-7:00am), which also happened to be my 30th birthday. (Yes, thank you. I have managed to stay alive for 30 years. Truly a triumph.) I was starting a cardiac case, and I mentioned this birthday factoid to my attending.

"Congratulations," he deadpanned. "Welcome to geezer-hood."

So yeah, the birthday. Not a real big deal, though I guess it was one of those landmark birthdays that people seem to make a big deal about. I am not concerned about the oldness factor of it, since, you know, 30 isn't really that old. I am also basically where I thought I'd be at age 30, so the birthday isn't really triggering any major life evaluation or crisises of the WHERE IS MY LIFE GOING, I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED NOTHING, I MUST ABSCOND TO TIBET TO LIVE IN A YURT variety. I'm just not much of a birthday person, frankly, and had actually forgotten that it was my birthday until Cal basically reminded me the night before.

However, speaking of agedness, we have recently make a household purchase which is basically only one step away from buying adjacent funeral plots. I am speaking of the old lady cart:




The rationale being this. We are moving to Atlanta. However, I am doggedly (some might say mulishly) holding on to the idea of a pedestrian lifestyle, and we are actually living in a neighborhood where we could actually reasonably walk to most important points of interest (supermaket, drugstore, coffee place, Cal's school, playground, whatnot). However, some of the distances are slightly farther than those that we're used to, and the picture of lugging shopping bags a mile through the hot Georgia sun is some distance away from the conception of My Beautiful Life. Hence:




Ironically, the person in this household with the most post-consumer satisfaction in this household is not the old lady, but the old man. Joe loves the old lady cart. He says with complete lack of sarcasm that it's the best purchase he's made this whole year. Whenever we go out now, even if its just to the playground, the cart goes with us, occasionally with Cal riding in it. It holds our bags, it holds the potty, it holds the groceries and Cal's toys. It has helped with the move, transporting old clothes to the Goodwill. (Startling revelation--I used to dress a lot more slutty in college. Well, didn't we all? Goodbye, polyester ironically 70's clothes from sophomore year, I will not miss you...much.) Today we used it to transport Cal's piggybank to the Coinstar machine for liquidation. (Would you believe there was upwards of $170 dollars in there, even with a bare minimum of quarters? I would not have believed it either, but I saw it with mine own eyes. There was probably $25 in pennies alone.) We love the old lady cart so much that today, we increased our household old lady quotient by 100% and got another, slightly smaller one.




The next step is plastic furniture covers and a bowl of dusty ribbon candy on the side table. Then the transformation will be complete.  

Now stop that racket.