The other day, Maggie of Fluffy Battle Kitten wrote: “It would be so super good if every morning when you woke up you could genie-in-a-bottle yourself to whatever age you wanted to be that day. You could wake up and be like, ‘eeny, meenie, moogly woop today I want to be 44.3 years old’ and then shazaam you would be 44.3 years old for the day. Then you could try bunches of ages before deciding the age you’d stick with most days. You’d need to take a test when you turned 18 in order to get your genie in a bottle age changing ability though.”

If I had been given that choice when I woke up this morning (now, I guess, yesterday morning), I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have chosen to go with twenty-five. But as this birthday has dragged on — and man, has it dragged on — I think I’m learning to live with it. Give me a year and twenty-five will seem like second nature to me.