With age comes BORING.

I've been thinking about this more and more intently since it idly crossed my mind at Point Defiance the other day. I was sitting on the sand cliffs at the end of the point, looking out at the bridge, enjoying the stiff breeze that always comes off the water there. The tide was out, so a ways below me was a pebble beach with really nice-looking waves that was absolutely vacant. I wanted to go down there, and there was a path down the side of the cliff, but I didn't.

Ten years ago I would have headed down that path without a second thought. That day I sat there and immediately thought "where would I leave my book? I'm wearing the wrong shoes for that. I could fall or roll my ankle. Getting back up would be a pain. What if the tide comes in?"

What the fuck! Ten years ago I would have stashed my book in a tree and gone down the damn slope BAREFOOT if I thought it would give me a better grip. What the hell happened to me? Is this adulthood creeping up?

I say fuck that. I'm going back there when I get back to town and climbing down that damned path and sitting on that beach. The last thing I want to do is forget how to have fun or lose my sense of adventure.