Fifty-Freaking-Eight

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So, today marks the 58th anniversary of my birth.

Everyone should have the day off!

Well, maybe not everyone, but I made a surprising decision when I mentioned that I was taking a day off.

Yeah. Been another year of simply not using vacation or PTO days, and as sad as it is, I’m going to feel guilty all day.

Those damn nuns.

As luck might have it, the Yankees got rained out last night and the game was moved to this afternoon.

They better not poop on my birthday.

Reggie hit 3 for more when I turned 13. Maybe Judge can do the same.

As for my loving family?

They’re allowing me to cook whatever I want for dinner!

Actually, Kathy offered to buy dinner as did the boys and I declined.

What would I do all day if I’m not working?

I’d rather make something.

And Ollie and Miller will be thrilled to have me around all day.

But fifty-freaking-eight?????

“He’s pushing sixty,” Sam mentioned one day a couple of weeks ago and it confused me for quite some time.

I understand the concept of time passing, and I know I’m fortunate to still be here, spouting my nonsense…

…but ‘pushing sixty’ hardly seems possible.

And all those people who say clever shit like:

“Age is just a number.”

Or

“You’re only as old as you feel.”

Well, truth is, some days I feel like I’m 103.

Maybe I’ll get to that number…

…who knows?

They say that the first person to live to 150 has already been born.

That would be my luck.

92 years to go!

Happy Birthday to me.

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