Comparing Apples to Lesions

It's 7pm on a beautiful Friday night.  The view outside my picture window is amazing.  Colorful trees against a gray/blue cloudy sky.  There's so much to appreciate.  But I'm ready for bed.  When did this happen?  By "this", I mean...when did I stop being cool?  I've got to get to the bottom of this.

Tonight in 1989 would've looked a lot like this:

• Rush home from sports practice, assure Mom schoolwork was in check, begin to call friends to organize night out.  On a landline.  'Cause none of us had cell phones. 
• Pick up friends, go to dinner at Coco's, order ginormous virgin strawberry daiquiri (come on, I was 17), eat tortilla chips and salsa, no meal.  I worked at Bavarian Pretzel making $3.65/hr.  A meal wasn't in the cards.  But I knew what was most important.  Daiquiri and tortilla chips!
• What came next would either be:  Dancing, pool shooting, and/or driving around town acting the fool.  Whatever I could fit in up until 11pm, because that's when Vietnam Vet Sgt. Dad said to be in.  And I quote, "there is nothing you can do at 11pm that you can't do at 6pm.  Oh silly Dad!  That was so not true!  Which is exactly why my kids will be in at 10pm:-)

Tonight in 1990-1993 cannot be discussed.  I was in college.  'Nuff said...

Tonight, present day, is as follows:

• Drag in from work, throw briefcase on table, refresh with glass of water.
• Strategically place empty glass so as to remain in the nightly game of Dish Jenga.  
• Watch husband carelessly approach sink with his glass.  Smile upon hearing random dish hit floor...husband loses AGAIN!  Loser loads the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.  I just hate that job.
• Decide whether or not 3 bath towels in the closet are enough to get us through until tomorrow, or if laundry tonight is required.
• Consider pros and cons of going until morning without eating.  I don't feel like heating up a leftover.
• Let the dogs out, in, out, and in.  How can 4 dogs be on 4 different bladder schedules?  I mean, shouldn't at least 2 of them match up?
• Listen to husband cough incessantly.
• Yell at husband for coughing incessantly, demand he take double the dosage of Mucinex.
• Husband goes to bed in frustration, because I'm complaining about his coughing and am completely insensitive to his illness, which he wants sympathy for.  I cannot muster it, because it is a cold.

Of course I'd prefer to blame ms for this drastic change in my social life, because I don't want to believe I'm aging.  It then becomes the dx of convenience.  But comparing 1989 to 2010 is like apples to lesions.  Worlds apart.  While I miss the fun and excitement of yesteryear, I'm quite content here in my quaint little life.  I'm nearly undefeated in Dish Jenga.  No one can stretch a load of whites like I can.  And hey, there's a little food left in the fridge for the family.  Not too shabby!  Besides, I don't think I'd want to be a 38 yr old out driving around, acting the fool.  Or spend an hour trying to stuff myself into a red leather skirt to go out dancing.  Or chompin' on tortilla chips and drinking virgin frozen daiquiris in glasses the size of small fountains.  Wait...