Turbulent 20's no more.

At midnight last night, I officially entered my dirty 30s. I was at the cast party and doing way too many shots and chasers. (Oh, yes: the run of the play ended on Saturday night. We might be back though for another show. But more about that later.) Can't remember very much (thank goodness) except that I had drunken depression at one stage and calling someone in the middle of the night and talking (and hysterically giggling) a lot about a potentially new story character named Peter Panther (a combination of Peter Pan and the Pink Panther. Don't ask. No really. Don't. 'Cause I won't be able to explain it.).

So now I'm a "little bit" hung-over and in desperate need of a long, warm shower.

And yes, my bones definitely feel creakier today at thirty than they did yesterday at 29. Do you think my post-midnight stumble through the backyard in the dark could possibly have anything to do with my (deeply hidden) skeleton's state..?