What bunions really represent

I'm off to see the podiatrist today. About my bunions.

This is so distressing to me. Not the bunions, mind you, but what they represent.

• I have to watch my fiber intake now.
• I can no longer drink a ton of beer and not have serious repercussions the next day.
• I listen to, and quote, NPR.
• I buy shoes and clothes based solely on comfort.
• Loud noises irritate the shit out of me.
• I can't drink caffeine after 11 a.m. or I'll be up all night.
• Even if I don't drink caffeine I'm usually up all night, unless I use a pharmaceutical sleep aid.
• I don't get Twitter. Or Tumblr. Or many other social media platforms.
• I am thrilled to have an adjustable bed, in which I can elevate my feet at the end of a long day.
• Competency, to me, is knowing that I have a stash of tissues in my handbag at all times.
• I'm off to see the podiatrist today.

Gawd, I am old.

I am no longer a whippersnapper. I really enjoyed being a whippersnapper, so it's sad for me to realize I have moved on to the next stage in my life: solidly middle-aged. How boring.

• I use terms like "whippersnapper."

I don't want to fight it, though. I feel myself sliding somewhat out of relevancy, and while it's mildly disconcerting it's also quite comfortable. I no longer know how to update every single thing on my employer's website, delegating that instead to the young whippersnapper who works for me. That's odd for me, as I've always prided myself on being self-reliant. However, there are only so many hours in the day and one can't know everything. Can one?

I'm off to see the podiatrist today. It's causing an existential crisis, but hopefully I can get these damn bunions fixed.