But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve changed.
And being older, and thus more mature, I can refer to those changes as adaptations.
So, to appropriately word it, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve adapted.
For example, in the summer, when it stays light later but I want to go to bed, I can’t justify going to bed while it’s still light outside.
In my mind, my sharp, experienced mind, that would make me a loser.
But then I came up with a Sumstine House Rule.
When you look outside, if the majority of the cars going by have their headlights on, then it’s okay to go to bed.
Simple.
If it’s too dark for a car to safely drive without its headlights, then it’s dark enough for me to go to bed.
Thusly, I am not a loser.
Now it’s fall.
Autumn.
Not my favorite time of year.
It’s my third favorite of the seasons.
Spring first.
Summer second.
Fall third.
Winter — dead last.
But there is one thing I really like about fall.
The darkness.
It sets in earlier.
And you know what?
If I want to go to bed, I go to bed.
I’m a grown ass man.
You’ve read this before, right?
Me calling myself a grown ass man?
There’s a reason I keep saying it.
I work hard during the day.
I’m also still a daughter’s personal chauffeur.
I get up early.
Really early.
I do this thing on a Facebook Community Page where I run a bracket challenge, kind of like a Sweet 16 tournament, and I routinely run the daily matchups somewhere between 5:00 and 5:30 in the morning.
So, I’m up early.
I work hard all day.
I perform a variety of tasks daily to the betterment of our family unit.
I’m busy.
I’m productive.
I contribute.
Therefore, I get to set my own bedtime.
This is how adulthood works.
I assume.
So if it’s mid-to-late September, and maybe it’s a little overcast, and I look outside and see four out of five cars driving by with their headlights on…
Well, dang it.
I can go to bed.
I have fulfilled my obligations.
The headlights have spoken.
The day is officially over.
And I can climb into bed without feeling like some kind of loser who went to bed before the sun.
Because I am not a loser.
I am a grown ass man.
And apparently, a grown ass man gets to use passing automobiles to determine his bedtime.
Which, honestly, feels like something you earn.
So I will state it again.
I’m no loser.
