I realized something basic and silly and obvious while in bed last night:
I AM HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS.
Technically, it might be a third-life crisis, since I hope my time won’t be up when I hit 68, but the fact remains: I just turned 34. I’m a year away from 35, that classic old “holy shit, what am I doing with my life?” milestone. And I work in an industry that, for the most part, is a young woman’s game.