Age is just a number
The other night I made a noise complaint.
I picked up the phone and not only called the council but the police as well. The offenders were playing loud music and I was trying to sleep on a Friday night, at 9.15pm.
My first thought was ‘I’m trying to sleep here’ then that was quickly replaced with ‘Fuck. I’m an old man. Surely only old men make noise complaints.’
But age really is just a number. I turned 30 in November, however many will argue I still have the mental age of a teenager. A young teenager at that.
I mean, the other day, an unnamed future brother-in-law of mine farted and it was so high-pitched it made me laugh, for about 10 minutes
That’s not a problem though. Since when did society dictate that at a certain age you have to act all grown up? Since when do you have to lose that immature and carefree side?
You never do. My Grandad certainly never did and he was a great man who I learned a hell of a lot about life from.
I have a house, I pay my bills and I have responsibility. However, I will hopefully never stop looking at the world in a playful way.
I hope I never lose the ability to hold a serious conversation about my wedding before then running around having a pillow fight.
I will, however, make a noise complaint if those pesky kids keep playing their popular music though.