Tonight Judit and I made gingerbread houses (from the Trader Joe’s kit).
a) I am now diabetic.
b) I should pretty much be a professional gingerbread house maker.
I’m pretty proud of my two-mini-candy-canes-as-a-heart innovation.
I figured it’d be paying rent or doing my own taxes that’d do it. Or perhaps it’d be my first real paycheck. Or buying a more expensive product to get better quality so it’d last.
Well, I did those things and don’t feel particuarly like an adult. Yesterday, though, I realized it comes in steps. I realized this because I clipped my fingernails. I looked at my hands yesterday and saw that my fingernails were getting long and realized that I hadn’t bitten them, none of them.
Now I have nothing against biting one’s fingernails (or picking one’s nose) and I realize there’s a time and place where it’s not appropriate (in a client meeting, for instance), but, while I wasn’t doing anything about it, I also didn’t particularly like this habit. Well, apparently I’ve unknowingly stopped. I guess it was just time.
And so the realization that I’m one step closer to being an “adult.” Next step: talking to girls like they’re normal people.
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