I don't feel so grown-up

I wonder if, when I move to the new house, I will still feel like John Hinckley.

Let me explain, quickly, so the Secret Service doesn't raid Mom and Dad's.

I would not hurt anyone.

But I was reading a Washington Post profile of Reagan's would-be assassin. It described him as “a kid on perpetual spring break.”

I am not saying I am John Hinckley 2. I am peaceable and don't have an unhealthy fixation on Jodie Foster. My obsession with Buffy the Vampire Slayer is totally cool, by the way.

But the spring break tag is how I feel a lot, especially on a week like this when I am off.

For my job, I read stories and play on the computer all day. I do that when I am home.

Most of my expenses are for comics or things I will consume. I save a lot for retirement, but that's for me – or my little sister if I kick it early.

My latest expenditure plan – obviously not until after the house it built and I get settled financially – but my plan: Sponsor a little league team, either as Matt's or the Good Kind of Bitter. I would not be doing it to help the kids but because it would make me laugh to see Matt's Orioles or the Good Kind of Bitter Blue Jays.

I asked Mom what I should wear tomorrow when I go talk to my niece's first-grade class about service dogs. Do you want to present yourself as an adult or one of the kids, she said.

I am wearing shorts and my Flash T-shirt. And my spring break continues.