Twenty years ago I was seventeen years old. I had recently made the decision to go into the Army and was blissfully unaware that Iraq would be invading Kuwait in a couple of weeks. Ultimately, I signed-up anyway on delayed-entry, and became a soldier. A lot of people thought I was nuts, but it really was one of the better decisions I’ve made.
Ten years ago I was 27 and living in Philadelphia. I was working for a dot-com, making great money, and making an ass out of myself on a semi-regular basis. I was dating Kristin, who drove me crazy (in a bad way), but I didn’t have the backbone to break up with her. That wouldn’t happen for another six months or so, and when it did happen, I handled it very poorly.
Five years ago is a time of my life I prefer not to think about too much. I was horribly depressed and made the lives of everyone around me into a living hell.
Three years ago I was living in an apartment in Uptown and hadn’t met Kate quite yet, nor had I adopted Calvin at that point, either. I had just finished building up my Salsa Campeon, and was starting to get serious about riding again. I was happy again.
One year ago I was enduring the Summer of Mostly-Alone as Kate was on an extended business trip and only home every few weekends. Mooch had been dead for about a month and a half. I came to the conclusion that the bike shop was a BadIdea™, but decided to try my hand at framebuilding.
Yesterday I went to work and was very productive. Kate was working at the swim school after work, so I cleaned the house up a bit, had food, and did things that needed done.
Today I am probably working while you read this. I’ve pre-scheduled it, like I do most of my posts.
Tomorrow Kate will be at the swim school again, and I will probably be cleaning like a fiend, as her bridal shower is on Saturday.
Image Credits: skitterphoto.com/Creative Commons Zero (CC0).