Without a Doubt, This Never Happened Last Night. I'm Afraid to Admit that I Was An Old Fart.

Remember the days when you looked at the clock and it was 9 p.m. and you thought to yourself, "Hmm. I need to shower and get ready to go out?"

Last night, 9 p.m., I looked at the clock and thought, "Shit. I'm ready to hit the pillow."

True story, that.

I watched Fairfield University lacrosse beat Villanova (which was awesome) and followed it up with NCAA basketball tournament time. I prepped for classes, ate another round of spaghetti (my meatballs are awesome), and did a lot of reading. Earlier in the day, I helped Chitunga bring reconciliation to the engine light that came on in his new car and also watched several YouTube videos to help me think through the ways to push the sump pump release of underground water away from the house...it was minor hernia pressure.  I even had a sip of American Honey whisky, but when I saw it was 9 p.m. I said, "Jeez. I think it's time for bed."

Gone are the days of bar-hopping. Absent are clubs, parties, midnight adventures, and whacky experiences. These moments are replaced with, "This rocks. I can go to bed and attempt to get at least 8 hours of sleep. Woot Woot."

Chitunga worked a double, so he was gone from 9 a.m. until 1 a.m. (and I remember those days, too). The house is quiet. I'm rather trapped by what I can do physically, and so a bath and early bedtime it was.

Guilt? Of course. Missing the old days. Sometimes. But I'm perfectly fine with an opportunity to chill out.