Being in your thirties is a completely different animal. And when I say thirties, I mean late thirties. Like, next year is 40.
When I was in my mid-twenties, I could not wait to be thirty. I had the uncomfortable, weird, undecided twenties. I had no idea what I was doing with my life and it was quite a mess.
I drank a bit and was a barfly.
Perspective and age, I suppose, can change you. I now love to go to afternoon brunches or a happy hour and just come home at a decent hour and be a regular schmo. I put on my pajamas and read, write and watch endless episodes of Law & Order. I even like to work at night.
I can happily say I do not miss a 5 a.m. roll-in, with a crappy night sleep and an awful early morning wake-up to the sun shining in my eyes, telling me I’m a loser, kind of night.
I love the daylight. I am a morning person.
Thirties are when you need to get your shit together. Whether or not you have a big house or a stupid, over-priced car, your head needs to be in a good place. It probably won’t be in a great place, but a good place is a start.
Money will not buy you happiness. It’s a great big fucking help, but not happiness.
So, forties are approaching. I’m going to try really hard not to dread it. Good things are going to happen. It’s a Happy.New.Year.
An Honest Swallow 
Tell me what you think!