The Maturity Overshoot

I think I should be proud myself, but I’m not quite sure. On one hand, isn’t this what life’s all about? Continually growing and evolving, always progressing, never overstaying your welcome in any of the various stages of life? But on the other hand, have I become less exciting than a smelly old dish towel?

Let’s back up a bit: My long lost buddy Tom dropped by recently for a brief mid-week visit. He was in the area and had a plane to catch the next day. (For those of you who’ve read the book, this is the same Tom from Iowa and Isle Royale fame.) Now, if this exact same scenario had played out about ten years ago, our itinerary would have looked something like this:

1. Choose a pizza place to eat at by having one person close their eyes and pick it at random from the yellow pages. No matter what was chosen, we’d be forced to eat there, even if it was something like Easy Ed’s Drive-Thru Pizza and Organ Transplant Hut.

2. Order an extra large pizza and each eat half.

3. Somehow, someway, find a quarter-operated, stuffed animal crane game and spend as much money as necessary until something cool was won.

3. Despite that fact that it’s March, find a basketball court and shoot some hoops. During this time, we’d each have to take on the persona of a famous old-school basketball player, such as Julius Erving or Robert Parrish. In these examples, the man being Julius Erving would have to attempt nothing but ridiculously complicated, but still incredibly graceful, layups, while the man being Robert Parrish would have to lumber up and down the court while answering to the nickname “The Chief.” In addition, Julius Erving would probably have to wear an afro-wig to complete the transformation.

4. Start to feel sick from eating way, way too much pizza.

5. Nintendo.

6. Regardless of each person’s commitments for the next day, stay up late and watch a terrible movie, like Death Wish 8, all while laughing hysterically and making fun of it.

However, this wasn’t ten years ago, and our itinerary instead played out as follows:

1. Ate in; a relatively small and inconspicuous meal.

2. Did a load of laundry.

3. Discussed healthy eating habits.

4. Waxed nostalgic about the old days as I sewed a button onto my shirt.

5. Since I had to work the next day and Tom had to catch a flight, turn in relatively early.

That’s it. No stuffed animal toy crane machines. No snow basketball. No random-yellow-pages-pizza-place picking. We did watch a part of The Next Karate Kid and laugh hysterically at its badness, but it was only the closing ten minutes of the film.

So that’s why I’m wondering if I should be proud of myself. I mean, this is maturity, right? This is how it’s supposed to happen. Am I wrong to think that if we’d have attempted the activities of ten years ago, it would have been hideously embarrassing for everybody involved?

But still, on the other hand, one of the highlights of the day was that I SEWED A BUTTON ONTO MY SHIRT!!!! (In Tom’s defense, I think he was hoping I was going to stab myself so he could laugh at me.)

I guess I’m just hoping I haven’t overshot the whole maturity thing and have essentially turned into a fifty-year old who finds pleasure in determining what kind of bran cereal to buy.

However, even if I have, I suppose I could have a mid-life crisis, which would open up a lot of possibilities. For example, I could get an earring and a convertible and go on spring break somewhere!

Never mind. That sounds like too much work. Perhaps I’ll knit myself a sweater, instead.