I’m how old now?

What is it about one’s 30s that makes one forget their exact age? These days whenever anyone asks me how old I am, I really have to think about it. At least I don’t look like I’m old enough for it to be impolite to ask yet! In any case, I’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities:

1. My memory is becoming more sieve-like with each passing year
2. I care less about birthdays and presents these days than I used to (probably due to being able to buy myself stuff these days, unlike when I was jobless/house-building/a newly arrived immigrant etc)
3. Getting older is too horrific and I’m repressing the grim truth

Surprisingly, if I’m honest with myself, it’s most likely to be number two, even though the other options do come into play somewhat. Despite the fact that I can notice certain negative things about getting older, not least of which is not being able to sit down on or get up from the floor without saying “oof!”, I’m actually enjoying my 30s.

For the first time ever I feel financially secure, and in the midst of this global crisis that’s a pretty sweet thing. I have a job I’m happy in, despite the challenges having me questioning my competence now and then, I’m in a loving relationship, I have two cute-as-a-bug’s-ear nephews, no enemies (that I know of) and more fantastic friends than I can mention here (I hope you all know who you are). And I can’t forget to mention my two lovely kitties in Australia and my two super-cute kittens here in Norway.

If I sound smug, don’t start rolling your eyes just yet. I don’t pretend everything is perfect. But I feel incredibly grateful to be in a position where I can manage the things that aren’t perfect because I don’t have to deal with the pressing stuff I had on my back ten years ago. I’m glad I did some hard yards in my 20s instead of spending all my time and money going out partying and throwing what little money I had away, because it has meant that I can relax now where a lot of others are struggling.

Having said that, I know this is not the life for everyone. Sometimes I think I was born to be in my 30s because the whole get drunk and barf every weekend thing a lot of people do in their 20s never held much fascination for me. I’ve always been happier hosting dinner parties and sitting around with a small group of close friends and a few bottles of wine.  So now that everyone else is finally interested in doing that too, I finally feel like I’m part of things.

So what’s gotten me all philosophical about my life? I’ll be ticking another year off the old calendar tomorrow. It has kind of crept up on me this year, and I haven’t made any plans, but somebody has… I’ve been told I have to be home by 6pm tonight. Hmm… what does he have up his sleeve? Hopefully my sieve-brain will remember to let you all know.