Today is my birthday. I am 49 years old today.
Yesterday my cousin was telling me that when I turn fifty, all play time is over, I can no longer make excuses for myself as being too young to know something, or making a mistake because I didn't understand something -- "when you're fifty," she said. "All bets are off."
Well. However much truth you ascribe to something as didactic as that, it's not for another year, anyway. I am 49 today. And will be able to remember this, now, I hope, since this past year of being 48 was one of the hardest-to-remember years I have ever experienced. I could never tell whether I was 47, 48, or 49, and had to stop and count laboriously backward from the date to the year of my birth. And sometimes was incapable of doing that. I just don't get numbers. They don't speak to me, they don't live in my head. Words, do; letters, also, do. Numbers -- you kiddin' me?