What's next? Depends and a Hoverround?

I am 90 years old. No, seriously. Ask me what my interests are. I enjoy a good novel, talking to my cats (PLURAL), baking banana bread, and last night I found myself outside in the garden for HOURS weeding and planting, knee deep in dirt, Willie Nelson bandana around my head.

Seriously... 90.

When did my life go from beer bongs to garden hoes?

But the weird thing is... I LOVE IT. I am not sad about this transition. Of course I miss the party days and all the crazy things we did in college (like ride a waterslide down the staircase of a frat house), but I LOVE this new stage too. Am I crazy?

What a strange age this can be, your late 20s. You find yourself somewhere between daisy dukes and bermuda shorts, between glowsticks and Netflix nights, pre-Pampers and post-keg stands.

And the circle of life goes on. Meanwhile, I'll be doing jager bombs Saturday. Guess I'm a walking conundrum.