My aching limbs are a sign that I'm showing the wear and tear of the years and the overweightedness (which is an abstract noun I've invented for this occasion).
Planning a wedding is a good thing, though it seems like a huge basket of confusion at the moment, given the fact that you end up reviewing other people's weddings as evidence that yours will be nice, and start to ponder whether, for instance, such and such a photographer is any good considering the really bad clothes of that particular subject he happens to have photographed. I don't care about other people's weddings, just ours. Still, we'll get there.
I'd like to live in our house. We do live in our house, but it's not ours ours, just ours... you get me? No? Me neither. I'd like to own the house I live in. I own a house, and that's a responsibility, but I don't get to live there, which is a shame, because I liked that house. I liked living there.
I prefer the living arrangements we now have, except for the house, which I don't prefer, since it's too small.
Tonight I'm driving an irresponsible distance to perform for free for charity. This will probably be great fun, but I reserve the right for it to make me feel old.
Oh, and I'm writing a book, and it's going to be huge... and take about 6 months to draft.
Does anyone know a publisher?