Sometimes you just… you know that feeling, that little stab in the gut when you scroll past all the happy hour pictures — god, the LIVER DAMAGE those kids are inflicting — and you know *exactly* what you’re missing, because you’re sitting in a goddamn waiting room at the podiatrist, holding a very old woman’s hand, and you think, “Well, fuck, this is my life now.” And it’s not even that you resent it, per se, because she’s family and all, but it’s just… a little bit of a deferred gratification situation, isn’t it? Like, you’re just constantly pushing your own life to the back burner, and then one day you wake up and it’s 50 and all your friends have decided who they’re sticking with, and you’re just… there. Not that *I* would know anything about that, obviously. But sometimes you wonder if