You know you're becoming a spinster when...

I just watched the 30 Rock from last week (yea, DVR-o-Vision!), where Liz has broken up with her boyfriend (played by Matt Damon...no wonder she's so depressed) and decided she doesn't have it in her anymore and is just going to give up.  She arrives at work in a sweatshirt/jammie-pants combo, with a chip-clip holding her hair back, a fanny pack, and a new pet cat she named "Emily Dickenson."  Sounds crazy, right?  But hitting a little too close to home.  I am wavering on the line into spinsterhood and I need someone to pull me back onto solid ground.  How do I know?

Top 10 Reasons to believe I'm falling into Spinsterhood:

10.  I only own sensible shoes.  Yup, not a heel in sight.
9.  I caught myself telling a funny story about the cat the other day and ending it with the phrase, "She thinks she's people."
8.  I have food wrappers on my bedside table.  Granted, they are from sugar-free Popsicles...holy crap, I just realized it's WAY weirder to eat Popsicles in bed than junk food.
7.  I have a designated friend (shout out to D. Willy) who, in case of my untimely death, is in charge of going over to my house and tidying, i.e. removing any parental-inappropriate items.  If you are confused by what that might be, then you are probably my mother and should not concern your cute little mom-head about it.  Seriously, Alma.  Quit reading.  Now.  You may resume reading at #4.
6.  I do not have a single pair of adorable or sexy undies.  Granted, I did have them, but they got to be too big.  Nothing worse than a pair of lacy black undies working it's way towards your knees.  Except maybe a pair of granny undies in unappealing tan with a bit of elastic hanging off the top working down to your knees.  While wearing a skirt. 
5.  While I'm on the underwear theme, I just bought a new bra.  It is a workout bra, and it is battleship grey.  'Nuff said.
4.  The only items in my shopping cart are 3 bags of Soy Chips and a jar of peanut butter.
3.  I can count on one hand the number of men I have had a non-work-related conversation with in the last week
2.  I find myself eyeing babies with the intensity that only a single, childless woman has.
And the number one reason I know I'm sliding into Spinsterhood?
1.  The overwhelming desire to shake my fist and yell, "you darn kids!"

I actually am somewhat OK with this.  It's not completely glum--I can watch whatever I want on TV, I can eat peanut butter on a spoon as my dinner, I get the whole bed to myself, and I can set the thermostat to whatever is comfortable for me.  So while some days I feel like I am the saddest, lonliest woman on the planet, on other days I feel like I own the world.

But please, if I EVER wear a fanny pack, it's time for an intervention.