What Age Are You Really? (I'm Feelin' 22... And Also Not So Much.)

I've made no secret of the fact that I feel like a twenty-two year old about... 13% of the time. If we're being generous. [As we speak, I am curled up in bed at 8pm in my comfiest fleece, binge-watching Aziz Ansari's new Netflix show... by the way, put that sucker on your Netflix queue. Such important social commentary, but also funny. as. heck. No, but this is what I'm doing as one of my roommates is just now starting to get ready to barhop on a Thursday night.]

Here's the way I see it. There are times I act or feel my age. There are more – way more – times I don't. Thought I'd break it down a lil bit to see just which way the scales are tipping.

I'm Feelin' 22 

// when I give my dad the log-in information to my health insurance and 401k portal and say, have at it, pops. I literally have zero idea what I'm signed up for. Zero.

// when I can (too) easily justify any Taco Bell or ice cream run.

// when I'd still rather sit in the spirited student section at football games rather than the cushy first row, 40 yard line football seats we have access to.

// when I come home from work and say "screw you" to the stovetop and call to get takeout from the restaurant at my doorstep. Most nights. Other nights, it's a handful of hot Cheetos or pizza to share with the roommates.

// when my friends Skype in other friends just to play a board game. (Seriously, who does that?)

// when I can spontaneously call my homegirl Leah after work on a Tuesday and be all like, so what would you say if I crashed at your place tonight. And we drive to a pho place even though we said we would cook (but it's cold!), then fall asleep watching Quantico (are you watching yet?! If not, stop reading and go watch. Now.) squished together in a twin bed before waking up at the crack of dawn to go get McDonald's breakfast sandwiches before work.

// when my friends and I commiserate about rent and credit cards and careers and is it okay if we're not even close to having our lives figured out yet.

I'm Feeling Not-So 22

// when my friends have to bribe me just to get me to even consider going out on a Saturday night. (What'll usually push me over the edge? An IOU of a field trip to Chipotle.)
// when, even then sometimes, I still say no "because I have plans at 7:30 in the morning." Do you want to know what plans those were? Forcing myself out of bed and into the rain so that I could beat the cray cray weekend line at Plow. But the crispy potatoes and the bacon and the pancakes... need I say more. Already making plans to go brave that insane crowd again.
// when I have a great time sitting around listening to Leah's 94 year old roommate talk about the days of her youth.
// when I have more in common with my 32 year old roommate than I do with my 25 year old roommate, or my 23 year old roommate, or my 21 year old roommate. You see, my 32 year old roommate and I have grand adventures of HomeGoods runs after work, and Sunday mornings at the flea market, and Sunday afternoons at the cool new grocery market in town, and evenings making soup. By that I mean she makes soup and I sit on the counter keeping her company.
// when I'm basically dying with excitement because three of my best friends are going to be under one roof this weekend, and it is a matter of WHEN not IF we get to all squeeze into one full sized bed and snuggle and maybe make a blanket fort and pour tall glasses of wine and order an extra large pizza.
Oh wait. I'm guessing that's an any age kind of thing, isn't it?