Scott Adams did a recent post on his Dilbert blag about permanent age. While still pondering mine, it's somewhere south of the currently accumulated years.
I wear cartoon jammies. I seek out new music and don't discount it as shite. I'm friends with urchins of friends and seldom find myself saying "when I was your age" to 'em.
There are milestones I continue to hit that serve as signs I'm an adult. A few weeks back was one: watching the odometer turn over 100,000 miles.
Bought used @ 17,000 miles in the fall of 1997. Have worked from home since, enjoying the insurance discount for the 0 to 3 mile commute. The paint job has seen its better day, but it's paid for and gets me around. The iPod tape deck adapter gave it a new leash on life.
Recent months had me purchase pondering for the next chariot, but I hit two problems. First, that I'm newly particular about the shape of vehicles. I can't find one that doesn't irk me - within or without my price range. And then I met the startling realization that I'm pragmatic.
It ain't broke. Do I really need a new car? Sheena posed harder questions during Cheek Weekend about conspicous resource consumption, and got me thinking.
I'd like to have heated leather seats for long road trips, but I could rent a car for those and save cashola (and have a lesser impact on the earth). I'd like ... well, really, that's all I want that I don't have right now. Then Sheena went and got all unchummy for Hummers.
Happy Earth Day!