This weekend, it was my turn to be surprised. And surprises came in droves.
Sunday was my 34th birthday. I find it a little hard to believe that I’m actually that old. I always figured when I was in my 30s, I’d be more … mature. And yet I find myself being more immature with each passing year. I guess I’m holding to my pattern — 18 years old, with a heap of experience. For now, I think that’s a good thing. Experience helps, and one can’t get too mature. You lose all the fun, after all!
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