In July, I turned 37. That felt older than 36. A lot, lot older. For some reason, probably related to the fact that human beings have an innate sense, even as newborns, of the number 3, this made 40 feel really close. 40 feels old. I remember when my parents had their 40th birthdays like it was yesterday, and friends brought black balloons and tubes of BenGay over as gifts. I mean, look at the birthday gifts you get at 40! (I’m joking. I’m sure 40 will be very nice. I’m just particularly relishing the three years before I have to put a “4” on front of my age). Continue reading “The Three Year Experiment”
