Recently, I had a revelation: I am no longer in my twenties.
There were obvious signs prior to this new dawning.
For example, of late, in order to read small print, I must either remove my glasses or post the document across the room. Conversely, I must also use the “zoom” feature on my computer monitor to increase font size for virtually everything on screen.
I also must admit a tinge of guilt in continuing to list “brown” as my hair color on driver’s license applications. Rather, “gray with a small bit of brown remaining” is more appropriate. (Since there is not enough space to use this accurate description, I rationalize “brown” as being as honest as possible.)
Oh yes, one other indicator that I am no longer in my twenties is that I am the biological father of a 31-year-old. Even the most forward thinking and mature twenty-something would be hard pressed to have 31-year-old offspring.
