So much has happened since I last wrote.
I went to Miami. I went to DC. I dressed as a (non-slutty but semi-frisky) pirate. I turned 25. I realized I was old.
The day I realized I was old just happened to be the day after my 25th birthday. The "I'm old" epiphany was not necessarily connected to the fact that I had made it 25 times around the sun just one day before; that was just a coincidence.
Here's what happened. I went to New York for my birthday and stayed with the twins. It was all fun and games until Sunday, the day after my birthday, when Julia, Claire, Jake and I were having brunch at the neighborhood diner after a night of Birthdayween revelry. I was drinking a cup of coffee out of a white coffee cup. I took a sip, put my cup down on the saucer, and there it was -- a lipstick mark on the rim of my coffee cup. That's when it hit me -- I'm old. I'm a lady who leaves lipstick marks on coffee cups. That's it. Once that happens, there's no going back. You're old.
I'm surprisingly okay with this realization. Age ain't nothin' but a number, right? I mean, okay, I'm not saying if you come back to me in five years I won't be freaking the F out, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it.
Closing note: I must apologize for being gone from el mundo de blogging for so long, but it was fly-out week (that magical week when the law firms fly us law students to their offices for rounds of callback interviews) and I was jet-setting all over the place. You know how it is. So now I'm back, ensconced in my apartment in Cambridge, back to the grind. So I'll be better about blogging now, seriously.