Photo source: xkcd.com
Dear AARP,
You keep sending stuff.
I’m 29.
I know, logically, that this is just the result of a direct mail campaign casting too wide of a net. But, still, it makes me cranky. Is it because I use words like”cranky”? It’s not my age, AARP, I’m just Midwestern.
Yes, yes, it’s true, I do love being in bed by 9:30. And a hot cup of tea is a great way to start the morning. Why, yes, I do love butterscotch pudding, now why are you smirking at me?!
But! I also build blanket forts. I still wonder what I’m going to be when I grow up. I have no earthly idea how to fold a fitted sheet. Mature, grown-up people know how to do that kind of thing. They also probably know their blood-type.
You already get labeled a grown-up before you realize you’re a grown-up. “Congrats, you’re 18, now choose the next president, your future career, and sit on this jury). I certainly don’t need to be thinking about retiring yet, first, because I’m too young, and second, because I’d have to be a millionaire to retire any time in the next 30 years. But hey, AARP, if you want to send me something to live off for the rest of my life, I’m not too proud to join up. Let’s make a deal.
I didn’t think so.
Good talk, AARP. But let’s not do this for another, say, 25 years? The junk mail is kinda crappy for the environment, and hopefully in 25 years you can just text me like everyone else…
