I can tell I'm getting old!
(Sidenote: I have zero issues with getting older and intend to be one of those hip grandmothers who carry Dooney and Burke leather bags filled with Werther's Originals en route to my grandchild's violin recital he or she will play on an iPad the size of a thumbnail.)
I've just noticed some things creeping up on me since turning 30 years ago -
a) When planning a trip, rather than spend hours on research finding clubs and bars with keywords in their titles like "sky" or "ice", instead I spend my time finding the perfect walking shoe with a thick padded sole
b) My once mostly-neon undergarments are slowly dwindling in numbers down to more neutral colours a la the wardrobe palette of the latest Hunger Games when we learned District 13 was underground
c) I rarely use emoticons, but in the past I would look for the right one that read sarcasm and hilarity. Now I only use the ones with predetermined punctuation shortcuts because I'm too lazy to spend the extra 27 seconds searching for more options
d) I spent $150 on bento box tupperware the other day...
Guinea Pig texts me everyday after lunch informing me what his co-workers said about his lunch. Apparently, someone told him "he won lunch" the other day. And then someone else said, "You always have the best lunches." That was thrilling. The feeling was second to someone telling me I "look taller for some reason," but tied with how victorious I feel after grabbing the last package of kelp noodles at my local organic grocery store.
At Guinea Pig's last job, co-workers regularly inquired about his lunches. Well, naturally hearing these nice compliments motivated me to up my game and I started planning weekday lunches as hard as I'd plan for a Sunday dinner. Yes, sometimes I do pack garnishes on the side so he can sprinkle it over his lunch. Also yes, sometimes he texts me regular boyfriend stuff during the day and I not-very-slyly change the subject back to wondering what his co-workers said of his lunch that day.
The problem is - I can't tell if this is just Guinea Pig's clever strategy to get me to pack lunches for him every day because he knows I'm addicted to the feedback and in actuality his co-workers don't even notice what he's eating. I can't tell if he's bluffing and since companies have cut back on inviting partners and spouses to their Christmas parties, I can't even fact check his claims (yes I thought of this before). Even though I can't be sure, I lack the will to resist the temptation to make kick ass lunches for him and of course I can't disappoint his co-workers. Well played Guinea Pig.