Old Dog

“I don’t spend money on make-up anymore,” I told Carrie as I sat next to her in the shoe store (Baldwin needed sneakers) after wandering through Sephora on Wednesday evening. “I’m done experimenting. I have products I love and routines that work for skincare and becoming pretty, so it seems silly to spend money on tubes and bottles and jars of stuff I’ll just throw away eventually.”

She nodded and said she’s the same way. We’ve abandoned perfumes for lotions with more gentle fragrances. It’s easier to evaluate clothing and resist buying something that is cute but wrong. I even wrinkle my nose over some books, knowing the quick read isn’t worth the purchase price.

It’s rather nice to age, I decided. You get to know yourself better and with understanding comes power. And the ability to save money! It also allows one to establish friendships that are lengthy and important and lovely.

“I couldn’t stop crying,” I sniffled as we left the theater. “With the happiness and heartbreak and emotional moments – I’m a mess now.” The three of us – Carrie, Baldwin and myself – had gone to see Sex and the City to catch up on characters and plot lines. And I cried and giggled and walked out of the theater with a giant headache. Situations hurt or thrilled because I was emotionally involved from the beginning. As I live longer, there is a slowly growing pool (most of them non-fictional. Maybe not 'most.' Perhaps half?) of people about whom I care deeply.

I reminded myself of that as I settled in for another nap or watched more television with my friends. I’m no longer plagued by the need to do something or see sights when I visit people I love in other cities. I came to spend time with them – to glance across the room and share a thought rather than sending an email when I get a chance. To linger over meals together rather than sneaking in a phone call on my commute. So the chance to reconnect – to hear about her credit card that was stolen and an intern who didn’t test as well as she wanted – was valuable and lovely.

Likewise, she knows how much my mortgage was approved for and asked me to email listings for new homes as I start to decide. I spent my last night with them glancing through websites and peering at photos, pleased that my pre-approval extended past the amount I was planning to spend. I looked around the mansion that hosted my stay in BigState and sighed. I didn’t need anything quite so large, but I’d almost talked myself into wanting a third bathroom before I tucked myself into bed.

My delightfully relaxing visit ended with a bit of a glitch in the form of a pre-5AM arrival at the airport. My fellow passengers were apparently terrified of the self-check-in computers and decided to simply stay in line until an agent was available to walk them through the process. Lest I start to sound too mature, I was clenching my jaw and tapping my be-flip-flopped foot by the time I finally found my way to a computer. But travel progressed smoothly. As I made mental lists of furniture to rearrange at my house (I'm leaving things here to encourage buyers!) and more forms to fill out and services to cancel, I came home and thought of all I should do and napped instead.

But this morning found me awake before 7 and taking down pictures and moving around a few pretty items on shelves. I decided to nix one of the three beds and move the good one to the guest room. The office will remain bedless - I rather like it. But as I shoved and swore at bedsprings, I realized I can do this. I've somehow learned enough tricks to make stuff happen on my own.

Getting old doesn't seem so bad at all right now.