Hooah! It is early, and I am both awake and at work. I still have 15mins before my workday begins, and seeing as how I don’t have a couch to nap on, I figured ye olde blog might be a healthy distraction.I had a busy weekend full of sleeping, sleeping and some visiting. Allow me to recap:

Friday - Worked. Came home and walked the dogs. Went to my Poppa’s house for dinner. Came home and went to bed. Asleep by 10pm.

Saturday - Woke up at 9am. Got out of bed at 10am. Visited my house, went to Walmart came home and had a 2 hour nap. Went to church, went out for dinner, came home, went to bed 11pm.

Sunday - Woke up at 10am. Did some work, finished up some stuff. Went to the Laundromat and did some laundry. Came home, showered and went to friends house for dinner. Came home and went to bed.

Now, anyone else would probably think, what a boring weekend. I loved it. This realization has led me to believe that I am an old man before my time. Or maybe it’s not before my time, I do turn 24 in about 10 days. I am married, and I soon will own a house. I’m slippers and a housecoat away from being middle aged at the 1/3 aged marker.

For my birthday I asked for a washer for the new house. Not video games, or a guitar, or drums. A washer. You wanna know what’s really sad? I think it’s a good idea. From the outside looking in, I can see that I’m crazy, but frankly, I don’t care.

I read my buddy Brad’s blog all the time. He’s the same age as me, grew up in the same home town, had the same friends. He leads a far more rock & roll lifestyle than mine. However, often as I’m reading it, I think to myself that I could not do it. If I stayed up and played poker all night and went to work the next day on three hours sleep I would die. Literally. I would drop dead on my desk without missing a beat. I got seven hours of sleep last night and I can barely keep my eyes open.

What’s more, Brad always seems to be ‘doing stuff’. I like to ‘do stuff’ from time to time. I can’t fault him for it. More often than not though, I’m not it the mood to ‘do stuff’. If I have to leave my house I get grumpy. I say things like “I don’t want to do this stuff. Can’t we just stay at home?” or “do we really have to do this?”

Perhaps this all has a lot to do with being married. Ali has been whispering in my ear while I sleep and subtly shaped my subconscious into suppressing any rock & roll tendencies. That must be the case. And or, as I get older I get lamer. I could really go either way. I don’t care though, bring old age on. If I act 50 when I’m 24, damned if I won’t be acting 70 by the time I’m 30.

Here comes the new (old), improved (incontinent), Keith. Live it. Love Eet.