I realized the other night that how old I thought I was turning on my birthday was not in fact how old I really am turning on my birthday. Oh, don't look at me that way. I realized this when I remembered that it was two years ago that I was absolutely freaking right the fuck out about turning 45. 45+2 =47. Then I did the math: 11/62 + 47=11/09. Yup, that works out.
I'm not blaming this on incipient early-onset Alzheimer's or a big frontal lobe tumor. And I'm not even blaming it on the fact that I never even think of how old I am anymore, probably in self-defense. I'm blaming it on the fact that now that I'm old, time goes by ridiculously fast. How's a person supposed to keep track of what year it is or how old they are? I had a patient yesterday who, when I saw the name on my schedule, made me think, "Hmm. Didn't I just see them? Why are they back so soon?" Then I looked at the date of the previous visit. February. Okay. Apparently 9 months is the new 5 weeks. <---(Sentence just for Uncle. You're welcome.)
There's really no point to this post. But we old people like to tell pointless meandering stories. True fact.
xoxo
5 comments:
The hell you're old! I'd be thrilled to go in the WABAC machine and come out 47!
About the speed with which time passes: I hate to break it to you, but it only gets worse.
So, you're telling me for you 9 months is the new week and a half? :-) :-)
Just about...but you'd better catch my blog comments on "the new" anything ;)
I did!! That's why it says "Sentence just for Uncle".
Reading comprehension, people. My jokes need all the help they can get, 'k? :-PPPP
I need new corneas, stat!
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