Tomorrow is my 20-year high school reunion. Can you say, "Old as Mold?" Yeah. I'm old as mold. But what's older than mold? Dirt? Spouse is older than me -- a lot older than me -- so perhaps that makes me old as mold and him old as dirt.
Anyway, I haven't decided yet if I'm going. I'm kind of about 80% convinced that I should go. If you knew me, and maybe how different I am now, you'd think it rather bizarre that I'm entertaining such nonsense. The day I graduated from that dreadful high school, I vowed then and there, that I would never go back. Ever.
Yet here I am. Entertaining such nonsense, thinking about going back.
Thing is, I've been stabbed with a sense of nostalgia lately. Either that or the boob-lift, tummy tuck, 1200 units of botox, and collagen implants in the lips have deemed me ready. (Kidding! I didn't do any of that. But I do have a new dress...)
So I think I'm gonna go. Mostly because of the blog commentary I can come up with afterward. I mean, can you imagine? The stories? The photos? Should be interesting fer sure.
I must prepare myself, however. For I have changed considerably. Someone will prolly point their wrinkly fingers at me and say (in their best Goofy dialect), "Hey. Remember that one time (not at band camp) when you drank a pint of Southern Comfort and went to a basketball game?"
And you know what I'm gonna say to that? "I don't remember doing either."
Stay tuned. Anyone have any good high school confessions? Or reunion stories? Do share.