Boy, Do I Feel Old

I feel really old, but I don't think it's because I turned 40. I think it's because I didn't get enough sleep last night (my husband and I saw a late movie) and it's almost midnight again and I still have contacts in my sleepy eyes.

This morning, I had my unruly mop of wild hair cut at 9:00 a.m. It's still long, but less shaggy, less cocker-spaniel-like. After that, I went shopping with a $30 gift card to Macy's, where I purchased two unmentionable items of clothing (for $15 total) and two skirts. I love the clearance racks. Not just like, but love them. (Last night, before the movie, I bought four tops (sweaters and shirts) for less than $40 at Marshalls. I am a skilled bargain hunter.)

I need to have half-days off more often. I feel almost human.

Tonight, my husband and I ate dinner at a seafood restaurant overlooking the Puget Sound. Two couples joined us and we laughed our way through our crabcakes and prawns and tempura halibut. Then we finished up with more conversation, cold coffee and burnt creme. Several times, the ferries passed by, brightly lit like floating Christmas decorations. No one made much fuss (thankfully) over me, other than three candles stuck into my dessert.

And now, the birthday festivities have drawn to a close. Tomorrow morning, Babygirl and I have nursery duty, so I'll be blurrily wondering why in the world I didn't get to bed before Saturday Night Live started. But if I hurry, I can be in bed, falling asleep before my carriage turns back into a pumpkin and my ball-gown becomes soot-covered rags.