I got a new computer at work today, and I keep thinking it's not as good as the old one. Except the part that the new one doesn't sound like an airplane, which the old one did. I have to keep reconfiguring settings - things like, in Outlook, instead of getting a little envelope in my task bar to notify me that I have a new email, a "preview" would pop up, telling me who the email was from and showing the first line or two, then disappearing completely. What? How is that helpful? And considering the amount of off-color jokes my work friends and I send, I think it is a much better system to NOT have parts of a message splashed on my screen. Why can't the new computer be more like the old computer? The old system was fine. Why is my "home" button way the hell over there? MAKE IT LIKE IT USED TO BE.
I also lent the flip-flops I keep at work for our fifteen-minute walks to a coworker who had dropped a shelf on her foot, and took our walk in heels. Now my right heel bed feels funny, like there's a long blister down the side of it, even though it looks fine, and I have two blisters on my left toes. I wear these shoes all the time!
My posture at work isn't great, because I am not average height and therefore my cubicle and chair are not optimal, which means for the last month or so, I've had shooting pains under my right shoulder blade. They're not bad enough to have seen a doctor (or a masseuse), but they woke me up last night! Earlier I googled "how to sit properly at work" and all the advice basically boils down to "be taller and sit like a robot in an ergonomically correct workspace," which isn't exactly an option. I have to get a physical in the next few months, so if this shoulder thing doesn't quit, I'll mention it then. Aren't "unexplained body aches" one of the symptoms of old age?
Andy and I had a conversation the other night about my low levels of energy. When we started dating, I was a little ball of go-go-go! all the time. Now, I skip the after party and still sleep late. It made sense that I had less energy in my earlier, shittier job, because a) teaching is physically exhausting, and b) so is depression, but now I'm not teaching and I'm not depressed, so Andy worries about me. It's endearing, but also I feel sad for him that he worries when I just want to go to bed early sometimes, and maybe we could catch a matinee movie and eat dinner at 4:30 beforehand.
I'm living the life of a fifty-eight-year-old, I think.
How old does your life indicate that you are?