We were lounging about, having one of our talks, one wintery evening. We were talking about the year that practically slipped by and us having not realized how so. We had ideas and plans. We had goals to achieve together and individually. We wanted to do this and that and then some. While talking about something, I tried to think of the plans I had before I hit 35. And then, I thought to myself, that I still had time.
The next afternoon, I was doing one or the other random thing, when a thought struck me. And I froze!
I opened an online calculator and had to calculate my age. It suddenly hit me that I had completely forgotten that I turned 33, past September! Till the day before, I was thinking that I am 32 and have 3 years to go. But, alas!
Disappointment hit me like a low hanging branch while jogging on the sidewalk. Thwack! I couldnt help but start crying and Mr. PB couldnt help but start laughing. I cannot believe how I forgot my own age. I lost an entire God-Freakin year of my life! Not really, but you get the drift.
I feel like quarantine is truly making me lose it. Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s early onset of something crazy.