Getting Old, or Not

Yesterday was my daughter’s 24^th birthday.  I was doing a pretty good job of not feeling too old. Especially since she emailed to tell me I’m “awesome” after she opened her present that we fedexed to her. In 24-year-old language that means I’m still cool. (My 16-year-old would probably say I’m “sick” and that would be a good compliment too, especially if I’m feeling healthy.) But this morning I woke up with a painful kink in my back, remembered I had a 24-year-old daughter, got depressed at how old I felt, and went back to bed, where the kink was worse. That’s when I realized the back problem had little to do with age and a lot to do with the fact that I had slept the night on my husband’s crossword dictionary. When I emailed him to complain, he chided me because he had spent the night with my earplug case mashed against his cheek. If he didn’t snore like a gargling goose, I wouldn’t need the earplugs. By the same logic, I suppose that if I knew every word in the English language then he wouldn’t need the dictionary. I’ll start with the A's.