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Saturday, March 06, 2004

Every once in a while a situation arises that brings to the forefront the eerie feeling that I'm becoming an old man. Generally, I don't feel old, because really, 27 isn't that old even with 28 right around the corner. Sure, it's the age at which Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain all died. But those fools were all hopped up on goofballs every night of the week, and everyone knows that's just not healthy living. Thirty-three, now that is old.
For example, a couple of teenagers came by our apartment last spring trying to sell some magazines so that they could win a trip to Europe (total scam), and I completely lost my shit when they wouldn't take "No" for an answer. Felt a little old after that, plus Nathalie made me promise never again to open the door to anyone trying to sell magazines or religion. It feels awkward when I have to tell the Jehova's Witnesses though the door, "Sorry, I can't talk to you, my wife thinks I might go nutso."
And now, we have these rugrats who moved in down the hall from us, and they like to run up and down the hall all day and well into the evening. I really wouldn't care if they stopped after 9:00 at night or if it didn't sound like an elephant parade. So I'm presented with the dilemma of a)chalking it up to kids being kids and letting it go, or b)sticking my head out the door and doing the equivalent of "Hey, kids, get off the lawn!" Yelling at them could be difficult though because I'm generally not a mean person except when it comes to old people and puppy dogs.
Sure, I could take the third, non-confrontational but assertive route of asking them kindly to stop after 9:00, but I'm not as big a person as that. But the bottom line is that the whole damn thing makes me feel old. Matlock!!!

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