As I muddle through this, my 39th year of existence, I feel the pressure of the world around me to follow the latest trend from fellow Gen Xers…the ‘I’m turning 40 Bucket List.’ The only thing more popular are those ridiculous month stickers people slap on their screaming babies to memorialize Junior being 9 months and crabby or Sally being 15 months and sassy. Since I was born with attitude and raised in sarcasm, I posted this a few months ago.
Isn’t he adorable.
But I’m just not feeling the whole mid-life crisis bucket list thing. Mostly, because I refuse to accept this is mid-life. I still feel 25 inside of my head, so why would I want to make a list of things to do before I die. Bucket lists used to be for people with terminal conditions or the plots of Jack Nicholson movies. Now they seem to be a prerequisite for your Intramural Co-ed Softball registration and the last grasp at coolness before you say fuck-it and buy a Lazy-E-Boy and elastic waistband pants.
So in honor of my 39th year, I give you my Non Bucket-Bucket List.
1. I would like to get 8 hours of sleep a night. I dream of what that would feel like, no really, I do. I imagine it would be similar to what heaven feels like.
2. I would like one week where I get to watch Jeopardy uninterrupted. It that too much to ask? I don’t think so and, apparently, neither does Jeopardy.
I don’t mean to brag or anything, but JEOPARDY retweeted me. I now think I’m kind of a big deal. The rest of my family does not agree.
3. I would like to actually make something from one of these recipes I tear out of the cooking magazines I buy. Sometimes I make is as far as buying a few of the ingredients, but, without fail, I forget a necessary item end up making one of my three, standard, boring meals, or buying take-out Chinese because I’m just too exhausted to try or care.
4. I would like all my pants to fit me comfortably each time I wear them and for them to all to feel like elastic waistband pants. I mean really. Why do pants need buttons and belts…too confining. I am approaching middle age. I want to feel comfortable. I want to ignore that my metabolism is changing. I don’t want to have to lie to myself that my dryer is shrinking my pants.
5. I would like to have a week, hell I’ll even settle for a day at this point, in which I do not have to play crazy taxi driver, racing around the city. With two kids, at two different schools, in six different activities, I honestly don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I’d kill to be kicked back in a Lazy-E-Boy in my unbuckled pants asking questions to Alex Trebek. By the way, I’m #teammustache if you were curious.
Basically, I want to be a grumpy old man now and do things in reverse. I don’t want to walk the Great Wall of China or Sky Dive over the Grand Cannon before I turn 40. Sure, I want to take a picture in front of every welcome sign for all 50 states, who doesn’t. But not right now. I’ll save all that for when I’m 80. Right now I want to sleep, eat, sit, and comfortably watch TV uninterrupted.
Yes, that’s me. I plan on rockin’ old age like nobody’s business.