A week ago, a handful of Sister hit the town for Sunday Funday, a descriptor that, for the younger bar crowd means, “Let’s stretch this weekend out and keep the party going!” For this old man Sister it means, “You’re an idiot. You have to work tomorrow and you will be miserable until at least 1:00 in the afternoon. Plus, this is going to wreak havoc on your morning routine. There’s no way you’re going to be able to get up in time for your workout, and even if you try to honor that commitment, you’re going to be late for work.”

“But it will be fun!” said my inner voice, and I listened. The younger definition of Sunday Funday won, and it was fun. How could it not have been? My Sisters are amazing people. They bring laughter, joy, and purpose to my life, and I am thankful for every moment spent with them in ministry to the community. However, old man Sister knew what she was talking about, because my Monday was miserable.

There are at least a couple of ways I can maximize the fun and minimize the misery. I don’t have to stay out too late, and I don’t have to drink too much. How responsible of me that these limits would present themselves as options. In this, my fiftieth year, maybe I’m finally turning into an adult.

But what’s the fun in that?