Did you remember to change your clocks last night? It's fascinating how we can alter time with a mere spin of the hour hand. A reminder just how arbitrary time is. We all agree it's two o'clock and swoosh, we all agree it's three.
Last night it was just an hour. Every four years we add an entire day to the calendar.
If we can so easily mess with time, then why are we so hung up on age? Some of us hesitate to tell the truth. Others pick a particularly good year and stick with it. And the adage "sixty is the new forty" has become a mantra. Frankly, I'm not at all sure what that means. Why can't sixty just be the new sixty? After all, we're not the same sixty our parents were.
I'll be turning sixty-five soon and I plan to celebrate. But check back with me in a few months when the day actually arrives. You might just find me under the covers curled up in a sixty-five year old ball -- reading the heaps of Medicare brochures I'm currently receiving in the mail.
How do these insurance companies know my name, address and birth date? Is there a national soon-to-be-geezer roster? If so, I want to be on the "do not mail" list.
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