In ten years it'll be flattering. Right now it's irksome.

       So I'm sitting here waiting for my boyfriend's dad to get out of wrist surgery (he told me that if things go wrong [with the minimally invasive, locally anesthetized procedure] I should call his sisters - I'm slightly uncomfortable with this level of responsibility, no matter how slim the chances are that I'd be called to fulfill it).  I should be spending this time working on, well, work, but blogging is more important, right?  (Wrong.)
      
      I have almost nothing interesting to report.  I've discovered that I'm a total slob when left without sufficient storage space.  I am terrible at making friends (working from home does not help matters).  On a recent visit to AZ to see family (which was really fun), I noticed I drink more with them than I do with friends, and I learned that I really enjoy climbing rock formations but don't like getting to the top because I'm scared of heights and climbing down is so much worse than going up.  Also, old people who live in Sun City West are terribly paranoid and mistrustful of youth.

       Also, most people think I'm a teenager.  I know I'm supposed to be flattered but this mostly pisses me off.  Perhaps this can be construed as a slur on teenagers.  Well, in my case, it was true - I was a twerp through all of adolescence and most of college.  But mostly, it's a slur on age's condescension toward youth.  It's always interesting to see how someone's manner changes toward me when they find out I'm not, as they assumed, seventeen, but that I am, in fact, almost twenty-four and two years out of college and holding down a full time job in a technical field.  There's a moment of embarrassment, and a brief comment of surprise which is hastily amended to a compliment and the standard "That'll be good when you're forty, hur hurr" and an even hastier change of subject to discussions of jobs and the weather.
       This is probably at least partly my fault.  I mean, I'm sure I don't help their initial perception of me as a high schooler.  Since I don't have a standard office job, I don't have a young professional's wardrobe, and I'm not really sure how to dress my age.  I don't wear makeup (I mean, the tasteful, restrained makeup of an adult, not the enthusiastic and dramatic paintings of a teen).  I hope I articulate well and comport myself maturely, but I don't know.

      Alternatively, I could just be hypersensitive.

      Anyway.  Back to work.