I just had my 45th birthday. At least I think it was my 45th.
At this point, I’ve lost track. And really don’t care.
My theory is any birthday from this point forward beats the alternative.
If I really think about it (and I try not to), my life is probably half over.
It’s probably more than half over, but I’ve convinced myself with advances in medicine, an occasionnal walk around the neighborhood, and only eating17 cookies instead of 21, I should live until at least 90.
Not that I want to be that old, but again it probably beats the alternative of a dirt nap.
Since the clock is ticking I should really get on with accomplishing something (anything) before it’s too late.
I shouldn’t waste my last few remaining good years watching TV, tweeting, mowing my yard, or even going to work.
I should be making the world a better place.
My time should be spent on charity work. Traveling. Maybe building a school for the less fortunate.
Meanwhile, I’m shuffling paperwork and worrying about mandated testing.
This doesn’t seem right.
I’m on the clock. I have things I need to do.
And first on the list: Mid-life crisis.
So if you need me, I’ll be driving way too fast in my brand new red convertible I can’t afford sporting a mustache and wearing a tight shirt unbuttoned two buttons lower than appropriate.
Once I get this phase out of my system, I can help build a school.
Or at least mow my yard.
*Note from editor in chief…aka…tech-geek wife or whatever it is you call me on this "blog"…ummmm…it’s 46 and no…just no…on the mustache and unbuttoned shirt that is…I am totally good with the brand new red convertible. Maybe I am having a mid-life crisis too…after all I turned 39 this year.