It’s official, this is the last weekend of my 20’s. I turn the big 3-0 on Monday and I’m having mixed emotions about it. On one hand, I believe age is nothing but a number; intrinsically, I know this. But on the other hand, it feels like leaving my 20’s behind is fully committing to this adulthood thing, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready. So kicking and screaming, I will leave 29 behind and resign to my fate: I’m a grown up.
Last weekend I had several moments where I kind of stopped and said, “huh, I guess this is adulting”. Case in point: Brendan and I had plans to drive to Cuyahoga Falls on Saturday to see DMB and we ended up bailing at the last minute. What other exciting plans came up instead, you ask? Yard work. Freaking yard work. 27 year old me is laughing at how lame we are. 29 year old me( I’m still 29, dammit!) totally gets it. I started weeding like 6 weeks ago, and then every single time I attempted to finish the job, it rained. And rained. And rained. So while the dog was in the kennel last weekend, we decided to just bite the bullet and finish it. And you know what? I didn’t hate it. Who the heck am I, this yard work loving grownup?
On Friday I went over to my parents to help them spread mulch. Every year growing up I would absolutely dread mulch weekend: the heat , the manual labor, the literal shoveling a steaming pile of crap- I hated it all. But this time, I went voluntarily and actually kind of enjoyed it. There is something to be said for doing yard work. Unlike cleaning a bathroom, which gets filthy in a matter of hours, you can actually sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor.
To further this point, I’ve told pretty much everyone to get me Lowe’s or Home Depot gift cards for my birthday. I stopped at Home Depot yesterday to buy ant traps and ended up wandering around the nursery for a good 20 minutes, admiring all of the flowers that I want to plant. I’m hoping that next weekend we can at least start to plant flowers, put down pavers and maybe clean out the cesspool of a pond we have out back.
Maybe this is what adulthood is: getting dirty, pulling weeds, and shoveling very large piles of crap. To 30 I say: ready or not, here I come.