I'm old and itchy...

The itchy part I'll get to in a minute.

I'm going to harp on the old part of my life. You're going to have to get over it. I'm turning 30. I don't complain about too much, but you will have to listen to this. I'm getting old and I know it. Eating a cookie makes me put on 10 lbs. I want to be in bed before 10pm. I creak. If I don't move for long periods of time, my body actually hurts from it. My eyes are getting weaker. My hearing is not too great. Sometimes, when I laugh, I pee. Not a lot, just a little, but enough to remind me I'm getting ooooooooold. Oh, and forget my mind. I have to write down everything that I want to make sure I accomplish, otherwise, I will forget and not do it. (Literally, one of the things I have to do this week is figure out what day mine and Erica's tickets are for The Hunger Games. I have to write this down, otherwise, we will either miss it or show up to early.) I care about my rug in my house staying clean. Teenagers piss me off. I'm ooooooold!!!

It's fine. Really, it's a part of life and in spite of the fact that I'm getting old, I'm really happy with this stage of my life. I'm officially on my own with Ray and Eli. I have my own house that I may operate any way I please. (It's usually chaotic and wild and loud, but if it wasn't any of those things, it wouldn't be me.) I still wish some things were different, maybe that me and Ray weren't parents yet, because it feels awkward sometimes, when it seems like nobody else has kids. But, I am older than most of my friends, so I don't feel but so bad. Plus, Eli wouldn't be here, and that kid, he's my heart. Even when he's driving me crazy with his wild temper tantrums and ridiculous amount of energy and I'm almost dropping him off my shoulders because I'm desperate just to get him to calm down for 5 minutes so that I can have an adult conversation. (Plus, he's not old enough for me to let walk off while I watch him out of the corner of my eye, even though some people act that way. With my luck, he will figure out how to operate the lawn mower he's climbed onto, or he will grab the half open beer, or end up with the screwdriver up his nose. I KNOW my kid.)

Anyways, in spite of what I am talking about, there are things that I'm not talking about. I've developed the itchies. That's the only way to describe it. I can pinpoint the moment it started because I was terrified it was something else entirely. I had a delicious lunch of fried clams and shrimp. I love shrimp. Oh mylanta, love love love. I'm always terrified that I will develop an allergic reaction to it and never be able to eat it again, so I'm a bit paranoid about it. So, I had delicious lunch and then proceeded to move on with my day. I noticed I was a bit itchy, but just chalked it up to randomness and moved on with my day. 24 hrs later, I am laying in bed, dying, because I'm itching everywhere, my feet, my head, my face, my lady parts. I'm going insane, finally I can't take it anymore and march out to my mom who takes me to the hospital to get me checked out. 2 hours later, the doctor looks at me like i'm wacked out, gives me pregnezone and sends me home. I'm still itchy, but less miserable and move on with my life. But, i'm still itchy. It has disipated a ton since I moved out of my parents place and sort of have our finances figured out. But, I still get itchy. Mostly at work. My general doctor says it's not seafood, so it's a mind thing. Great. I'm really crazy. I don't know what exactly brings it on, because on occasion, it does happen when I'm not at work. But, mostly now at work. So, hopefully the college will call me soon, tell me I'm perfect and hire me. Then, hopefully the itchies will go away. The itchies are stupid.

Yep. I'm old.