The thing about getting older is that we acknowledge the things that make us quirky and hopefully embrace them. Or at least laugh.
So, in the shower there are various bottles of shampoo, body washes, conditioners, etc. You know, smellygood girlie stuff. Shampoo and conditioner always in matching bottles because I buy the same brand. I have recently noticed that I will pick up a bottle, read the label to make sure its shampoo. Ok, not weird right? But wait. After shampooing, I pick up the other bottle which HAS to be the conditioner via the sheer power of elimination. But I will check the label every time to make sure it says “conditioner”. Every.Dang.Time. I KNOW it is the conditioner but I can’t help myself, it’s a complusion to read the label to make sure it doesn’t say “Nair” or some such.
This has to be because I’m turning 35 in a few days. I do not necessarily like this.
I was about 16 or so and my brother 13ish when my own mom was 35. Blows my mind. I have one 2 year old. I told The Accountant the other night as I was huffing and puffing my way through a huge makeshift tunnel (previously living a much simpler life as a huge cardboard box) with kiddo that I was “too old for this” and that 20-somethings, not mid 30-somethings, are meant to have young children. My kid should be driving me around by now, not eating boogers and snarling up her little nose and shaking a miniscule index finger at me to say “mommy, no like dat” when confronted with green beans.
Sheesh, that’s me, an OCD hair-product-label-reader defeated by an open ended cardboard box. I need a nap.