Today, as I shoveled pizza into my gob, a friend turned to me and said something very profound:
"You know, you've got to take advantage of your time being single. In five years, you could be married, have kids, and be less happy."
Makes sense. My biggest complaint today is that my new tights are not, in fact, truly opaque.
(True: I have yet to understand how we can send a craft to Mars but no one can figure out how to make a comfortable pair of tights.)