You kids get off my lawn
Here's how I know I'm getting old: the dumbest things annoy the s_ _ _ out of me. The more inconsequential the better. It's ridiculous. Stuff like social media slang. Why do I care! Who cares! But part of my brain will be all, "Can we just be DONE stanning a queen already??" Then another part of my brain says, "Who cares! It's slang—language evolves ." And I'm like, "I know language evolves, but that's for, like, split infinitives and the singular 'they.' I don't want to read about any more people being obsessed, or getting destroyed, or having receipts." I realize it's silly, so I try to keep this internal dialog inside my brain where it belongs. But another reason that I know I'm old is less curmudgeonly and more positive. I was on a walk today in a meadow and saw a couple dozen butterflies, including two monarchs. And I'm telling you about this experience with words because I did not even attempt to take a