We went to see Shawn Mullins the other night. The opener dude was good too.
On the way home, the better-half said something about Shawn being a plumber. I had no idea what he meant and so he explained. Very talented and yet he looks like a plumber. I didn’t realize there was a type. Then the conversation moved on to the idea that some people look their age. And some look older.
Shawn, like he’s my friend and we are on a first name basis, is one month older than I am. He looks older than I do and there’s nothing specific about why that is. I don’t know if he was tired. I don’t know if it’s from all my clean living (I just cracked a rib from laughing so hard). But, I don’t look like that. Yes, my hair has pretty much kissed brown good-bye forever, but I don’t think I look as worn down.
The better-half agreed that neither of us has that beaten down look and he’s turning 50 this year so he knows from getting older. Actually, I had a terrible realization at work the other day that he was turning 50 because I am turning 49. Holy cats. The woman I was talking to was all “wha?”. She is in her forties and just assumed we were closer in age. Nope, sister, I’m on the slippery slope.