Today it’s my birthday. I’m 49. That’s old. Or is it? The mathematician in me refutes the proposition that any finite number is either large or small. Besides, 49 is a nice number – the square of a prime. Pretty cool, huh? That won’t happen again until I turn 64.
This is what I look like at 49.
Since last year there’s more of me – another three pounds in fact, and I’ll need to watch that.
On my last birthday, I filled out my tax forms and cleaned the bathroom. This time round I’m reviewing a short story written by a friend, and going to see my eldest son play the cello, so things are definitely looking up.
And I’ve received a DVD of The Martian, “Wool” by Hugh Howey, and a surprise (which hasn’t yet arrived.) Whoo! Surprises don’t happen often these days, except for nasty ones, so I’m looking forward to that.
Anyway, look out 50, I’m coming for you. But first, 49 – here I am.