The night before I have to grow up

I turn 30 tomorrow. I don't know why, but it's kind of freaking me out. However, the thought of turning, say, 32 doesn't freak me out. But something about crossing that threshold is making me feel... je ne sais quoi. It's not quite melancholy and it's definitely not nostalgia. But it feels like I'm about to walk through a door and leave something behind.

"They" say that your 30s are better than your 20s because you know yourself (or at least better than before). I suppose that is inevitably true. I'm looking forward to that because my 20s have kind of felt like a hot mess at times. Who am I? Where am I going? What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Is it supposed to look like that? What's that smell? Etc. But I'm hopeful and optimistic that there will be less questions in the next decade. Either that or I hope that I choose not to let the unanswerable questions get me down.

So here I sit. I've done the dishes, the laundry is put away, the floor has been vacuumed, the dog has been walked and I'm responsibly enjoying a refreshing after-work beer. The big plan for my last night of my 20s? Watch some streaming television, read and turn in early.

And as for tomorrow? For the big day? I've taken off from work, having imagined that I would do something AMAZING! But I ended up scheduling an annual physical that I've missed for the past 7 years. Lame, right?

Naturally, however, there will be a delicious dinner, because what is getting older without a solid meal for which animals have given their lives so that I may enjoy their flesh?

I don't know. It feels like it's about to be big, but I know it's going to be anti-climactic and fizzle out without much ado. Which is the best I could hope for, I guess.

But I still can't shake this feeling. Maybe it's indigestion.