the fogey man

Some people manage to avoid it, but I fear I have to admit this fact: somewhere along the way, Jon and I became old fogeys.

Last night we had dinner with some friends, and then met up with a larger group because it was a friend’s birthday and they were going out for dessert and drinks.  At this point it was after nine, which on any normal Tuesday is around the time I start thinking about putting on my pjs.  I yawned through the 30 minutes we spent chatting with our friends, before I looked over at a yawning Jon and asked if it was time for us to go home yet.

On the way home we both marveled at how crowded the streets were.  WHAT THE HECK ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE DOING OUT THIS LATE ON A TUESDAY?  Clearly, we have spent so many weeknights snuggled in at home we had no idea the world continues to go on, even on Tuesdays.

It’s only a matter of time til I can’t find where I put my teeth, I’m helping Jon find his bifocals, and we’re yelling at the damn kids to get off our lawn.

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