9:00
That’s what the clock blinked as I crawled into bed.
On Friday night.
Nine. O. Clock. P.M.
Nine o’clock on a Friday night used to mean that I only had a couple hours left of a waitressing shift. Nine o’clock on a Friday night used to mean that it was time to put on a cute outfit and spend time with friends. Nine o’clock on a Friday night used to mean that the DVD needed to be popped in the player and I needed to snuggle up with my sweetie.
And now? Nine o’clock on a Friday night means that the baby is asleep, the work week is over, and I have all weekend to get things done around the house. Nine o’clock on a Friday night means getting up from the couch in a near zombie-like state and dragging myself into bed.
Nine o’clock on a Friday night means that I am part of an old married couple!
Seriously.
I always thought you at least had to be old to fit into that category.
Apparently you just have to be anti-social and tired.
Okay, fine. So I admit it. I’m old and married.
But you know what? I love it.
Because being old and married means that when I get home at the end of a long day, at the end of a long week, I am coming home to the people who mean the most to me. Being old and married means that when I snuggle into bed, (bright and early), I’m cuddling up to my old married husband. I’m sticking my cold feet between his warm, sturdy legs. I’m wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders.
If this is what it feels like to be old and married, I don’t think I’m going to mind growing old.
