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Tam Turns 40
Tams40th_VarmintandTam

Holy cow. Did I just write that headline?

Outing myself as statistically half-done and officially out of range of having any shot at being carded (unless it's a MILF-minded suck-up behind the counter) is actually not that big a deal.

I'm not one of those chicks that's all freaked about putting a "4" in  front of my age. I won't tell everyone I'm perpetually 39. And I certainly won't buy into the whole 50-is-the-new-30 Prozac that the media pushes to midlifers in order to get us to part with our hard-earned Franklins. 

But I did do some birthday-related stuff that tags and bags me as a midlifer. No, it wasn't the great dinner with The Varmint and gang (that's us, leaving for the event, above), or wigging out with the Book Club Girls and saying goodbye to Jenny (that's her, below, on the far right). Primarily? I bought bedroom furniture. Like, real wood furniture. With drawers and everything.

Also? I bought a bed.

No, no, no. Not a new mattress and box-spring. We replaced that earlier in the year, when our 40-year-old backs were aching from sleeping on our U-shaped, double-divit, 12-years and 4-relationships-old mattress.

Tams40th_WigJennyFarewellNo, we're replacing the metal thing that the mattress sits on. That thing that squeaks like a thundering herd of mice everytime The Varmint and I put on our Barry White CD. We've purchased a real bed. With legs. And a HEADBOARD, people. The real deal.

The headboard was the clincher. I figured that 40 was a good age for The Varmint and me to be 100% concussion-free when that beloved Barry White CD manages to make an appearance. When it came time to convince The Varmint (a.k.a. my Little Prince Pinch-a-Penny) that we should, indeed, make the purchase, I said:

"We need to start preserving brain cells for the long haul."

Tams40th_FurnitureThe Varmint was surprisingly protest-free on the subject, saying thoughtfully, "A squeakless bed would be nice. And the neighbors would probably thank us."

"Don't be so sure," I say, after giving it some thought. "We've got some weird neighbors."

So the bed should arrive in December. And our furniture is already partly here. (See the picture? Our clothes are in there! As in: Not on the floor! We've now officially graduated from college - just 16 years after receiving our diplomas.)

We're also going to get home theater and a little flat-screen for the bedroom. Which means, along with owning bedroom furniture and a living trust, having insurance on both cars, and paying property taxes - we're unquestionably and officially adults.

Holy cow, indeed. 

 


Comments

  1. The New Yorker said on November 12, 2007 17:44

    Great, thanks a lot, just as I was trying to relax about entering the countdown (325 days to go), yet another friend crosses over...there is NO way I'm this close, I swear I was just 20 with fake ID! But, to quote an old Italian guy here, "hey kid, you're on the right side of the green."

    My new motto: growing up is an option.

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >