You know it’s bad news when you actually read your college’s alumni magazine and think it’s helping you stay in touch. Some days I begin to think I really am an adult. A friend sent an e-mail the other day ranting about how he’d suddenly become an adult without realizing it. I wanted to point out that he’ll be attending grad school in the fall and technically still hasn’t entered the real world. He’s got a doctorate to go before he enters the real world, and at that point you’re well beyond anything resembling a normal adult.

Some days I just feel like an adult. A stack of bills waits for me on the kitchen table. I walk in the door at 5:30 and feel like taking a nap. I actually eat vegetables without complaint or sour face. And I’m talking about more than potatoes here. Yesterday I caught myself complaining about how the service station had cheated me and how I should just do it myself and save a few bucks.

But every now and then there’s a glimmer of hope. My new bike has given me a lot of hope lately, although I do wear a helmet, which is a very responsible, adult thing to do. But I also jerk the handlebars up when I hit a bump and race minivans down subdivision streets. I even heft the bike on my shoulder and haul it up three flights of stairs after a long ride without complaint. And then, the best glimmer of all, I say out loud to no one in particular, “That felt good,” instead of, “I’m going to feel that in the morning.”