You're only as old as you feel.

That's what they say, right? A platitiude largely meant to indicate being young at heart. That's the context it's usually trotted out in. Of course, there's always the flip side. What about when you feel old.

It's my birthday today. I'm 31, and in many ways it's harder thatn 30 was. 30 was supposedly one of those landmark birthdays you hear about, but it came and went relatively uneventfully for me, garnering a big, "What's the big deal?" when I thought about it.

31 seems harder though. For one, I can no longer pretend I'm still at least on the threshold of my 20's. That door has closed behind me. I can look through the window and see those 20's, but where 30 felt like I was still technically there, 31 does not. 31 is pretty definitively being "in your 30's."

And let's look back at some items of note from my year of being 30. Namely health issues. In that one year I contracted mild asthma (OK, technically it was there when I was 29, but it wasn't diagnosed until I was 30)...I was prescribed glasses for reading, using a computer, and for work (which I've yet to wear to work)...and I came down with a bout of prostatitis, which if you've been keeping up is NOT vaginal cancer; it is however something my doctor described as happening "as we get older." So, much like senility, hair loss, liver spots, and death, it's an old person disease.

So, there's that.

There's also another factor that isn't as immediately apparent. The sale of my childhood home this very week. In fact, the papers are being passed tomorrow morning. I wrote a while back that it wasn't that weird for me. Well, that was then. This is now. Let me see if I can explain this one. With the exception of about 6 months at the beginning of my life when I was in Quincy---a house later burned down by the subsequent owners when they went out one day and left the toaster on---88 Merryknoll Road has always been my home. I moved out for a few years in my 20's. Moved back when I needed to save money for a new car. Stayed too long, bearing the stigma of being a guy almost 30 living with his parents. And finally moved out again back in July. But the thing is now, no matter what, whether I wanted to (unlikely) or just needed to (hopefully not), there is no going back. Let me reiterate: There Is No Going Back. No matter what, I have to be a grown up now, in the sense that mooching off the folks isn't going to happen. Well, not unless I move to Okatie. Which is fine, of course. I'm pretty self sufficent as it is, but looking down I'm watching the stagehands rolling away that safety net, packing it up, moving on to the next time. "Uh, hello? Guys? I'm still up here."

So, childhood home...gone. 20's...gone. Health...nowhere to go but down (generally speaking.) Is it any wonder I'm feeling old.

Fear not though, gentle readers. I'm still way too mentally immature for prolonged despair or depression. Give me a few days, and a few beers, and I'll be right as rain again. It's just been a weird few days.