When i was getting lunch at the coffee shop across the street, i asked how much the pop tarts were. "Two dollars, same as at school." O, ok, i. . . . uh. Wait a minute.
Now, i know i'm not totally wrinkled or anything, but this is starting to get out of hand. Michael thought i was "seriously not that old," a compliment coming from someone who can't legally buy beer yet. When David and I were in the grocery store, buying plenty of food including a bottle of wine, the cashier asked to see his identification, and then asked if we were married. I made a dead-pan, sacrastic answer that we giggled about later in the truck. But then he pointed out that the kid really did think i was underage.
Come on. This is beyond the pale. A bit flattering, perhaps, but it does tempt me to say "should i just send in my son to buy it?"
Aunt Barbara mentioned that i didn't look "nearly old enough" to have the level of education that i do. It was difficult not to point out that I took the decidely scenic route on the educational path. There comes a point where it goes beyond nice or flattering, and i start to wonder if people are questioning my maturity (such as it is) or my competance.
Anyway, here's to youthful vitality. May it serve me well in my interview tomorrow.
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