"I'm partial to brownstones."

It's a sort of fin de siècle here in Rougeland. While I am panicking a little because my roommate for all of four months has gotten a job in LA and will be moving pronto, I realize that I am no longer -- what -- young? No, that's not right. I no longer embody the characteristics of your average 20 something.

It took a Craigslist ad for me to realize this -- my Craiglist ad, my shot into cyberspace looking for a stranger to share my apartment. I think dating never seemed this fraught with the possibility of disaster. How do I describe that I don't want someone who's psychotic? As I attempted to do so I realized that there was heretofore unrealized sobriety (no, not that kind of sobriety) to the qualities I was looking for in a roommate.

Quiet.

Clean.

Dull.

Like me!

Upon editing the ad with more specifics about myself, I began to type the word "young" before the word professional as in "gay female young professional." Wait. At 28 years old was I a young professional? A young professional is 24, has a certain devil may care attitude, has a boyfriend in a band, and spends way too much disposable income on liquor. Then again, so do I. But 28 seems more mature, mid level career, and goal oriented. The realization weirded me out that I was spiritually moving into the ranks of the 30 year olds. In fact my ad has mostly attracted the attention of the 28-35 year old range.

Translation? I'm getting old(er). And what do I have to show for it? Two cats and roommate.