I suffered a birthday yesterday … thank you, thank you. This fact happened to come up in conversation with one of my fellow youngsters this morning on my way to class when I said, by way of explaining my level of general malaise, “I am forty-seven, you know.”
“Oh my god,” she said, “No way! I had you high-thirties, tops!”
Well that made me feel very, very good. I had spent part of yesterday (you know, suffering) lamenting my 47th candle, and contemplating it with broodiness aforethought, and this little compliment really took some of the sting off. Insert smiley face here.
Then she spoiled it: “Jeez, my Mom’s 46 – you could be my father!”
Oh well, at least she didn’t say grandfather.
That’s a pleasure still to come.