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The Calm Before Multilple Storms
Sep. 29th, 2017 04:46 pmThings 'round here are on the verge of CHANGE. Sorta. Mebbe. Mostly involving me.
You see, I'm ever so close to attaining A Ludicrous Age. An Age that--when spoken--causes many to immediately change their view of Who You Are or Why You Think a Certain Way or Whether or Not they'd like to Market You Any Toothpaste. 'Do you Feel That Old...?' goes the classic Silly Question. Well, Fuck. SOMETHING'S going on! Half-Marathon Number Ten hurt like a BITCH when I was done. Spent much long than I'd care to admit reduced to 12-minute miles. TWELVE. Sure as hell never running in $50 shoes again. Oh, no. Those days are past.
Of course, it's easier to deal with when one doesn't look their age. And almost never did.
Dumb luck, that. A direct descendant of a parent who's never aged. Can't be mad 'bout it!
At least not now.
Tho one can never tell 'till it happens...? Probably no mid-life crisis on the way.
After all, what would I do? Lose a buncha weight? That was 30. Dump the wife? 35. Find some young chippie instead? 40. Buy a shiny new car? See, that woulda been 45, but I thought it better to get the aforementioned youngun her choice of new car instead.
To be truthful, I've been sort of non-stop Rage Monstering about life and the things I've coulda done, who I shoulda done and every short-term mistake and their long-term ramifications for the last four years running. So it's just about time to move on from that.
ALMOST.
Got a letter in the mail yesterday that made me run screaming down my stairs. Can't tell you what it was.
Have to show you. Mebbe later...
You see, I'm ever so close to attaining A Ludicrous Age. An Age that--when spoken--causes many to immediately change their view of Who You Are or Why You Think a Certain Way or Whether or Not they'd like to Market You Any Toothpaste. 'Do you Feel That Old...?' goes the classic Silly Question. Well, Fuck. SOMETHING'S going on! Half-Marathon Number Ten hurt like a BITCH when I was done. Spent much long than I'd care to admit reduced to 12-minute miles. TWELVE. Sure as hell never running in $50 shoes again. Oh, no. Those days are past.
Of course, it's easier to deal with when one doesn't look their age. And almost never did.
Dumb luck, that. A direct descendant of a parent who's never aged. Can't be mad 'bout it!
At least not now.
Tho one can never tell 'till it happens...? Probably no mid-life crisis on the way.
After all, what would I do? Lose a buncha weight? That was 30. Dump the wife? 35. Find some young chippie instead? 40. Buy a shiny new car? See, that woulda been 45, but I thought it better to get the aforementioned youngun her choice of new car instead.
To be truthful, I've been sort of non-stop Rage Monstering about life and the things I've coulda done, who I shoulda done and every short-term mistake and their long-term ramifications for the last four years running. So it's just about time to move on from that.
ALMOST.
Got a letter in the mail yesterday that made me run screaming down my stairs. Can't tell you what it was.
Have to show you. Mebbe later...
