Good evening, everybody!

I’ve reached that age where my body sends me passive-aggressive emails.
Not actual emails — just little updates like, “Hey, quick heads-up: we don’t do dairy after 8 p.m. anymore.”
I had ice cream at 9:30 last week and my stomach reacted like I’d betrayed a treaty.

Getting older is weird because your injuries become mysterious.
When I was a kid, I got hurt doing cool stuff: biking off ramps, climbing fences.
Now I wake up like, “What happened to my neck?”
And my neck is like, “You slept... incorrectly.”

I bought one of those fitness watches.
I thought it would motivate me.
It mostly judges me in real time.
At 10 p.m. it buzzes: “Time to stand!”
No, it’s time to become one with this couch.
I don’t need a tiny wrist manager. I need encouragement.
Tell me, “Great job finding your phone charger on the first try.”
That’s growth.

And why does every app now need my location?
I downloaded a flashlight app — it asked where I live.
Why?
Are you trying to make sure I’m in the dark locally?

I ordered groceries online to save time, and now I have trust issues.
I said “6 bananas.” They sent six individual bananas wrapped separately like luxury gifts.
Who is this for?
Did I accidentally subscribe to Banana of the Month Club?
And every substitute is emotional chaos.
“Your spinach is unavailable, so we replaced it with marshmallows.”
That is not a substitute. That is a cry for help.

Customer service chats are incredible now.
You type: “Hi, I need help with my order.”
And the bot says, “I hear you. That must be frustrating.”
Oh wow, the robot went to therapy.
Then it gives you three options that have nothing to do with your problem:

1. Reset password
2. Track package
3. Begin spiritual journey

Also, group chats are out of control.
One person sends, “Big news!”
Then disappears for four hours.
Now 12 adults are panicking at work like it’s a hostage negotiation.
By the time they return, the news is: “Got bangs.”
Ma’am, that is not “big news.” That is a hairstyle update.

I tried meditation to handle stress.
The app said, “Notice your thoughts and let them pass.”
My thoughts do not pass.
They set up folding chairs and start a committee meeting.
“Okay, item one: that embarrassing thing from 2009.”
Can we not?
It’s 2 a.m. My brain is doing reruns nobody asked for.

But I’m trying.
That’s adulthood, right? Just aggressively trying.
You drink water, stretch once, and suddenly feel superior.
You go to bed before midnight and wake up like, “I am unstoppable.”
Then by 3 p.m. you’re eating crackers over the sink, wondering what happened.

Thank you, you’ve been amazing!