Oh man, it's been awhile since I posted. I spent Labour Day weekend on the lake at the Dude's father's and stepmother's place. And it rained the whole time. It was still relaxing though, when I wasn't concerned about Smokey.
We had left Smokey in the care of friends, who took good care of him. He happily gorged himself on rare wet cat food (holding out for it in lieu of dry), got his shots and otherwise lounged around. But cats, they express themselves in urinary ways. He left us a craptastic mess in the bathroom. Oh, Smokey.
I passed by a school today, filled with children, and a school bus outside. I felt a little melancholy. Back to school never really stops affecting you in some way, does it? You spend 14 (Or in some cases 15) years of your life, your formative years, basing your happiness and dread on the Tuesday after Labour Day. I never really loved the idea of going to school, but I was always pretty excited about that first day and getting new notebooks and pens and pencils and seeing if there were any new kids.
I suppose it's also sort of a yearly milestone thing. You weren't just 10 years old, you were in grade four. Now people don't ask your age and they care about what you do, which can go unchanged for years. What's marking the passing of time now is the fine lines forming around my eyes. Yes, that's now begun. I suppose I had to expect it. I have worn sunscreen since always, never smoked and stay in the shade. But aging still happens. You can only stop it from happening prematurely.
You know, people often disparage adults celebrating their birthdays. Often those people have children, come to think of it. But honestly? What else have we got to really mark the passing of time? People with kids start measuring their heights and noting their ages and accomplishments and birthdays, but this isn't about those adults.
When you're out of school and childless, I think birthdays are actually pretty important to a person. The years kind of melt together enough as it is. You don't have school to structure your life or define new eras of time. Maybe that's part of what I miss, if you could say I miss it.
Heh. Smokey wants more wet food. Not going to happen, buddy.