- You take your coffee black. You actually have to hold back a chuckle when you hear, “Want room for cream?” Do I want room for cream? Ha. Sorry, Trix, but cream is for kids. I’m a grownup now. I’d like nothing more than a rich, steaming cup of French-pressed, battery-acid-blend-with-notes-of-mud joe without that cream and sugar swill YOU call a latte. Pssh.
- Things you called “burnt” as a child, you now call “crispy.” The looks of horror you gave your father as he scraped off the indistinguishable black bits off the baking sheet while murmuring, “Mmm, that’s where all the flavor is,” are the same looks your kids are giving you. The same goes for “crispy” toast. Like it? Congrats! You’re officially a grownup.
- You saw an eight-year-old driving a car with his mom. Seriously. You have uttered the words, “He can’t be fifteen. He looks so young!” Fifteen-year-olds have always looked like that, it’s just that now you are old.
- You use the words, “classic” and “timeless.” Classic and timeless are words that make you feel good about the fact that you like old things: leather-bound books, the smell of rich mahogany, little black dresses with pearls, iron skillets, expensive scotch, etc.
- You wear flat shoes. When you’re an adult, you start looking for support and quality, and then buy multiple pairs in classic colors like black, brown, and sometimes navy. Occasionally, you will venture out in heels, but only when you’re going to be out for a couple hours. Your old, tired dogs just can’t stand the heels anymore for a night out.
- You don’t stay out all night anymore. What is this going to bed at 3 a.m. nonsense? You have to wake up before 6 a.m. to get that roast in the crockpot, so that means going to bed at 10 at the latest.
- You try to Skype with your nephew/niece/child/grandkid and struggle because you can’t figure out how to use it, while he/she sits there staring at you in bewilderment.
- You turn off the GPS or Google maps because her voice is annoying and you look at the actual map instead. You gloat inside when you make it to your destination all by yourself.
- You buy things in bulk. You bought a chest freezer for the side of beef you split, and have an extra room in the house devoted to massive amounts of toilet paper, paper towels, and Swiffer refills.
- You start really loving people. You’ve experienced enough loss by now to appreciate your family and friends a little more. You call, send a card, and visit face to face. You connect.
The Bucket 