The joys of being Thirty-Something

I have discovered a wonderful thing about being thirty two and a bit - me and my fellow thirty-somethings are in our prime. The books that are being published are about us: our childhoods, our angst-filled teenage years, our slightly-to-completely-messed up lives now. It's fabulous. There's just something really satisfying about being able to relate.

I met up with a friend who I haven't seen for probably three years (at least - I find it increasingly hard to keep a measure of time) over the weekend. In the missing time he has found himself a wonderful girlfriend with whom he has just bought a house, has got a relatively stable job and seems content. He was, basically, all over the place before. Now he's joined the ranks of many of the rest of the thirty-somethings... finally settling down and doing what our parents did in their twenty-somethings. Why the shift to later life?

Good heavens, I'm all over the place. My mind has had one of those weekends, okay, months of wandering off by itself, like a naughty puppy, for extended periods until finally I realise that I've been staring into space for half an hour and my office mate is looking at me strangely and tapping me on the shoulder. I wonder if it means I'm lacking something in my diet. Could a chocolate deficiency have this effect?