Dude. It's official...

...I'm old.

Last night as I was driving, I was listening to one of the radio stations from the college town about an hour away. It's one of the few stations that ISN'T country, so when atmospheric conditions are right and I can pick it up on the radio: I listen. I want to caution some of you music lovers that it's not a college radio station. They're not playing cutting edge indy music. They're not playing country music, and that's about all that they have going for them.

So some sweet young thing (complaining about not having a car) called in and made a request. Apparently some group has done a dance remix of Roxette's "Listen to Your Heart". I remember this song from junior high, having sung it with heartfelt drama many times over when contemplating my relationships with various junior high boys. So I am old, because a song that I grew up listening to has been redone. But what REALLY made me feel old was this: the DJ mentioned when the song was out, and asked if she listened to it then and she said, "This is a remake? I didn't know that! I wasn't even alive then." The italics are mine. The italics represent my sinking realization that I am, in fact, old. I don't feel old. I don't look old. But there is no doubt that this car-less young girl would think of me as old.

*sigh* Where's my Geritol? Where's my Metamucil? I need a nap!