Twenty.......Eight.

Well, I'm 28 now. So far so good, but I'm only ten days in. There's still 355 ahead of me, and, if you know me, ANYTHING can happen! To be perfectly honest, I do not believe I am mature enough to be 28, and for the first five days of being 7x4 I considered giving it back and re-evaluating the situation next year. 27 is a perfect square mathematically. It's still borderline "mid-twenties". 28, on the other hand, is just so... so.... "late twenties". Late twenties. Ugh.... People are going to expect things of me.

Anyway, it turns out you HAVE to turn your year older when the calendar mandates it in your personal life cycle. And while I was disappointed by this at first, 28's been ok to me so far. I like to read my horoscope for the year in the news paper on my birthday. Last year's was pretty accurate. It said that if I was single (which I was) I was going to meet someone through a friend. This summer, it happened.... although it turned out to be a waste of time. It was fun while it lasted though. But the point is that my super official Hamilton Spectator year long prophecy came true! This years projection wasn't as exciting, but it does say that if I'm single (which I am) I should meet someone who is "exotic" this year.

I hope he's Australian. I dig their accents......

Mind you it also prophesied less wonderful ideas, too. Such as that I could find myself in depressive moods more often this year. This would be a good thing to NOT come true and therefore destroy the confidence I have in such a silly source (i.e. whoever that intuitive is that writes the horoscopes for the Spec). At least I know ahead of time. And if sadness strikes, I'll do what I can to kick its ass.

Now, if I could get over this cold. Ever since I turned 28, I've been sick. Old age is attacking my immunity!

HI A.J.!!