Feelin' decrepit

It's nice to look back over your week and feel like you accomplished something. Myself, I turned one year older. I won't say exactly how old that is, but let's just say that ten years ago I was still well short of "dating age" and still couldn't go to Stake dances. So I'm really not that old at all. But I'm feeling nice and decrepit at the moment.

This could partly be due to the stomach flu I've been fighting off for the past day or so, which hasn't exactly leant itself to feeling young and chipper. Of all types of illness, the one I detest the most is anything related to my stomach. Queasiness, nausea, anything that makes me feel like I've been on a boat and may require some Pepto Bismol (*shuuuuuuudder*), I'm just not that in to. Not that I like colds any better, but it's a lot easier to function and lead a normal life with a cold. Stomach stuff, shoot me now.

Or the decrepitness could be residual frustration from starting a new job. A new job in an industry in which I have absolutely no experience. Not only no experience but also a very, very tenuous grasp on any of the principles whereon said industry runs. Not that my job really requires extensive knowledge of the industry (I mostly write letters in response to client complaints), but it still is a good way to feel rather stupid and ignorant. Not the best for feeling young and chipper, either. (Although I am learning, which is something. But I'm still, in my second week, wandering around in a haze of confusion, blinking in semi-panic and mumbling about needing my blue blanket to calm my hysterics. ("It's only a minor compulsion. I can deal with it if I want to.") I'm hoping this will fade with time...

I think the best cause for decrepitness is my family, though. Specifically my little sisters.

Back up a bit. My big brother got married in January, to his high school sweetheart, the girl that my oldest little sister, Rachel, and I decided he should marry back when they first met seven years ago. (This also gave me a sense of accomplishment, although, strictly speaking, I didn't do much to bring them together because they were already doing such a good job themselves that it wasn't necessary.) Great fun was had by all and I thought how nice it was to have another married sibling. I was the first in the family to get married and, until January, was the only one. So it was nice to have another couple in the family. Plus I finally got a big sister. (Hooray!)

Fast forward to last week. Rachel calls me up at 11:00 p.m. to tell me that she is engaged to her boyfriend Daniel. This is not a surprise, really. In fact, we'd gotten a call earlier in the evening that I had thought was Daniel using a funny voice to tell us, causing me embarassment when I asked the caller (in confusion again, seems to be developing into a bad habit) point blank, "Are you sure this isn't Daniel?" It wasn't, but luckily for my sanity, Rachel and Daniel called about 30 minutes later with the real announcement. Initially I was very happy for her and quite excited. Daniel is a great guy and treats her well and is polite and funny and gets along well with the family. Not to mention that they love each other quite a bit and would be another married couple in the family. So I congratulated her and let her gush over the phone for a while and then I went to bed.

Lying in bed, it started to dawn on me that this is MY LITTLE SISTER getting married. (Reminder: I did not turn so very old this last week and she is as much younger than me as I was short of dating age ten years ago, if you follow that weird mathematical equation.) MY LITTLE SISTER. IS OLD ENOUGH. TO BE GETTING MARRIED. Well, I guess technically she's not really OLD enough, but she is definitely mature enough so it amounts to the same thing, and my brother and I always said she'd get snapped up pretty fast, seein' as how she's gorgeous. BUT SHE'S GETTING MARRIED.

If she's old enough to be getting married, how old does that make me?

Add to this the fact that my next-oldest little sister, MeeAnne (no, my parents aren't that cruel; that's just my nickname for her), is, at the very moment that I am writing this, out on her first-date-ever. IF SHE'S OLD ENOUGH TO DATE AND RACHEL'S OLD ENOUGH TO GET MARRIED....

At least my youngest sister isn't making me feel old. Just short. She's not quite as old as I would have been ten years ago and already she's only half an inch or so shy of MeeAnne. Who is only an inch or two shorter than Rachel. Who is only barely maintaining a respectful height difference between her older sister, namely me. I'm still the tallest by maybe an inch, maybe only half an inch. But enough that I'm still definitely taller, if not by much. Teeny, however (again, just my nickname for her, although it's becoming less accurate by the day), has definitely not finished growing. You can tell she's just getting started, respectful height differences in regard to older sisters (who are more than ten years older!) be hanged. She's just going to be tall, try and stop her.

But at least she's not making me feel decrepit yet, which is more than can be said for our two other sisters. Disrespectful children, all of them! Getting married, getting dates, getting tall... where do they get the nerve?

And yet, in spite of all that I'm terribly fond of all of them and wouldn't have them any other way. So I guess I deserve to feel decrepit, eh? Maybe, like the confusion, it will all pass with time...