My dad forwarded me a tersely worded email from his work's HR folks, letting him know that I'm no longer eligible for coverage under his health plan. I knew this was coming; even as a student I can only be covered until I turn 25, and it's of little consequence, as I have another full year of coverage under my mom's plan, but it still came as yet another stark reminder of how old I am. At the end of the year, I'm going to have to buy an extra year of coverage from the UofT grad health plan, and after that I'll have to opt into OMERS at work, and start paying through the nose for that.
I was talking to one of my friends last week about this stuff. I'm now only five years away from being thirty, which seems insane. Thirty seems like it is thoroughly adult territory. There are no exceptions for being foolish and young when you're thirty. While I'm actually not the type to make foolish and young kind of mistakes, not having that safety net of a built in excuse is kind of terrifying.
I'm also now approaching a decade a TPL, and it seems all but certain that before my career here is done, I'll have amassed fifty years of service. Fifty! I don't even want to imagine how much of my hair I'll be pulling out by then.
It feels like just yesterday that I was just turning eighteen, and feeling like I was finally old enough to explore the world on my own terms. While I don't feel like I've wasted much of the last seven years, I'm beginning to feel like the window to live on entirely my own terms is closing. It's nothing to panic over, but it's hard to shake that feeling.