My brother’s birthday was last week. He wanted me to come join him and some friends in LA at a bar around 9:30 at night. I had to decline. It has nothing to do with LA, booze, or even my brother. The real hold up is the 9:30 part.

I don’t know what happened to me or where the turning point came, but 9:30 at night feels so late. At 9:30 if I’m not sleepy, I’m thinking about being sleepy. Who goes out at 9:30? Nine-thirty should be coming home time. It should be the end of your evening–not the start.

I’ve gotten so old. It used to be 9:30 was a great time to go out. When I used to go to the movies with friends, I loved the post-11 p.m. showings. You could go out, have dinner, goof around, and then go see a movie. Now I dread shows after eight because I like to be home before ten. Having a fulltime job has a lot to do with it–but many folks party all night and still show up to work every morning. I’m just old.

A lesbian couple in Seattle made news this week because they were . . . . .