I've made no secret of the fact that I feel like a twenty-two year old about... 13% of the time. If we're being generous. [As we speak, I am curled up in bed at 8pm in my comfiest fleece, binge-watching Aziz Ansari's new Netflix show... by the way, put that sucker on your Netflix queue. Such important social commentary, but also funny. as. heck. No, but this is what I'm doing as one of my roommates is just now starting to get ready to barhop on a Thursday night.]
Here's the way I see it. There are times I act or feel my age. There are more – way more – times I don't. Thought I'd break it down a lil bit to see just which way the scales are tipping.
I'm Feelin' 22
// when I give my dad the log-in information to my health insurance and 401k portal and say, have at it, pops. I literally have zero idea what I'm signed up for. Zero.
// when I can (too) easily justify any Taco Bell or ice cream run.
// when I'd still rather sit in the spirited student section at football games rather than the cushy first row, 40 yard line football seats we have access to.
// when I come home from work and say "screw you" to the stovetop and call to get takeout from the restaurant at my doorstep. Most nights. Other nights, it's a handful of hot Cheetos or pizza to share with the roommates.
// when my friends Skype in other friends just to play a board game. (Seriously, who does that?)
// when I can spontaneously call my homegirl Leah after work on a Tuesday and be all like, so what would you say if I crashed at your place tonight. And we drive to a pho place even though we said we would cook (but it's cold!), then fall asleep watching Quantico (are you watching yet?! If not, stop reading and go watch. Now.) squished together in a twin bed before waking up at the crack of dawn to go get McDonald's breakfast sandwiches before work.
// when my friends and I commiserate about rent and credit cards and careers and is it okay if we're not even close to having our lives figured out yet.