Late entry today, as early this morning we had to go out and be very adult-y (not a word, I know: see how childish I am?) and refinance our mortgage. I don’t know what it is about me but I tend to get so silly whenever we have to do anything this Grown Up and Important. It’s like impossible for me to keep a straight face, even as I’m sitting at a conference table signing all kinds of important documents. Plus it didn’t help that I had a large mocha right beforehand: I am still buzzing. Whoops!
Anyway. This is reality. I AM a grownup. (I think.) And it’s never more evident when you’re dealing with things like interest rates and escrows and all that. People keep telling me that you’re only as old as you feel, which I guess is true, even if I’m not sure how old I feel these days. Maybe not like a teenager, but maybe in my mid-twenties, that age when all this stuff—houses, car payments, bills, insurance, etc—was still kind of new and freaked me out. So perhaps it’s a ten year lag. When I’m forty-five, all of this will seem like second nature. Maybe. I guess we’ll see.
Meanwhile, in my immaturity, I spent last night immersing myself in my various shows, and I must say this: Entourage is even better this season than last. This is SUCH a good show: if you haven’t seen it, I recommend it, if only for Jeremy Piven (who is fantastic, but he always is) and Kevin Dillon (who is great, and who knew?). Everyone’s talking about how HBO isn’t what it used to be, but this show is right up there with its best. I just wish the season was longer. But there is always DVD, I guess.
See? Two paragraphs on maturity, and what do I do? Revert to TV. I can’t help myself. I really need to work on that. Maybe in the next ten years….