I’m 25. Ok, twenty-five and a half. When I’m thirty (and a half), I imagine I’ll be … Well, I have some fantasies that involve pets, brownstones and published works. I’m a little concerned that none of that will happen, and if I write out all that stuff here, I’ll have internet proof that I’m a total failure and Inconvenience Day XXX will be spent crying, which really would be inconvenient. Instead of talking about goals, let’s enjoy this lovely song.