According to my birth control...

...my life has gotten boring. Okay, "boring" isn't the right word. And this post isn't going where you think it's going, so get your mind out of the gutter.

I'm actually talking about when I take my birth control. The time. Specifically, the evolution of that time.

When I was in college, choosing a time to take the pill was tough. A good friend of mine always took hers at noon -- in class or not. Like clockwork, I'd hear the familiar snap of the pill pack switching to the next available pill as she quickly popped it into her hand and slipped it into her mouth. I wasn't nearly as stealth in my maneuvers; I was much more awkward about it. So taking it at noon wasn't a good option for me. Too many people around, too much fumbling.

I thought about taking it in the morning, but with the typically college schedule, there's no WAY that would be consistent enough to be effective.

I also thought about taking it before bed, but that was even more inconsistent. Mondays and Tuesdays, I'd be in bed by midnight, Wednesdays were closer to 3am (thanks to Penny Pitchers), Thursdays were 11pm and the weekend was all over the place.

So I came up with a fool-proof time: 7pm. It was just a little too early for dinner, so I probably wouldn't have to bust it out during appetizers, and it was late enough that classes were definitely over. I was never asleep at 7pm for any reason either. It fit within my fun, busy life. It was perfect.

Fast forward five years. I now take my pill between 10 and 11 at night. Why? Because that's when I go to bed. Pretty consistently. What the heck happened? I'm still young! I live in a city! I'm actually making money! Shouldn't life be even crazier now?

It's not. Even when I do go out and I forget to take it, there's a really good chance I'll be back at my apartment and in bed by 1am anyway. So even though it's a little later than usual, it's still within a two-hour window.

Is that really sad? I feel like it is, in theory. But, deep down, I don't mind. I'm much more of a happy-hour drinker than a late-night drinker nowadays. I've got no problem getting tanked at 6pm while it's still light out -- in fact, I prefer it, because I can eat dinner at 9 and still pass out by 10, giving myself plenty of sleep before work in the morning. Besides, in Chicago, there's nothing better than sharing a half-priced bottle of wine out in the sun on the bar's patio as the day winds down. It's heaven.

So maybe it's not such a bad thing that my birth control schedule has shifted. That's life, right? Maybe it's a sign that I've grown up. Moved on. Become a responsible, working adult. The only other explanation is that I've become more boring, so I'm going to do what any reasonable twenty-something does when faced with undesirable logic: deflect and ignore.

Happy hour, here I come!