I was in New York City last week and you can’t spend more than an hour there without pondering the idea of coolness. Am I cool? Am I not? These are the kind of soul-searching questions I ask myself. And the conclusion I came to? I am, in fact, incredibly cool. Let’s look at the facts, though:
1. I am 38, which is middle-aged no matter how much I don’t want it to be.
2. I drive a minivan. It’s a joke on wheels. A minivan! Why don’t I just start wearing mom-jeans while I’m at it?
3. I live in the suburbs. Not only that but I live in a neighborhood where my house is one of ten floor plans that residents can choose. In other words, bland and ordinary.