the fine art of shushing; or i fear i'm becoming the old spinster librarian with multiple cats

I used to shudder everytime i heard that hissing sound come from between my own lips--that "old fashioned librarian" noise that came automatically, unbidden at the sound of seemingly excessive noise or rambunctiousness--and sometimes that single finger would even creep up to my lip for emphasis. Now there are moments when i am sitting at the reference desk where i see opportunities to shush and almost relish the action (Almost and not Always) who am i becoming?

And then i come home, weary, headachey, cranky; i want to do nothing but hibernate. I find myself stumbling over the three cats that allow me to live with them, feed them, clean up after them, be furniture for them--and most of the time that home is where i'm happiest.

I am often up 'til the wee hours of the morning--i've always been a night owl but i used to be out haunting the night "up to no good" whatever for those hours. Now i just suffer from insomnia and migraines--you'll most likely find me mopping my kitchen floor, scrubbing the bathtub, or some other mundane task i haven't gotten to during daylight at three or four a.m. if reading hasn't lulled me to sleep, and the headache has dulled enough. Party Girl was always one of my favorite movies and not just a role model but SO already me.

Now i'm really not complaining here and unfortunately this could all just be age (wah, wah, wah) my goal is to still never grow up--and i still go out, and make people laugh and do my fair share of shocking things (although now it seems to be more tales of past deeds than current exploits--though i must admit i still have a few of those too). I just have to ponder every now and then who i am--which is always the sum of everyone i've been and everything i've done and as long as i'm satisfied with where i'm going i guess it's okay.