I have heard it said (or I made it up for dramatic effect) that a dream is a thought that takes place in an instant and is then unraveled in your mind as you sleep. Think of this as less of a reasoned critique of aging than as the unraveling of a sigh I gave as I awoke to being 30.
We have ten fingers, which in no small part led to us counting in base-10. Base-12 makes more sense, what with the fractions and decimals and commerce and such. There's a whole online movement futilely hoping to change it over. I wonder do they worry about turning 30 or do they take stock at 24 then 36?
At 24 I wasn't the scrawny promise of more to come that I was at 20 and I think at 36 my testosterone levels will have actually started to dip rather than at 30. Most sports that don't involve punishing joint injuries seem to keep their athletes until about 36. Who retires at 30?
These are thoughts which probably don't occur to the population of Burundi or Senegal which have life expectancies of about 60 years. There I could justify a mid-life crisis right about now. Regardless the base we counted in.
But here is where I live and this is how I count so today I'm taking stock for whatever reason. Still got all my hair. Some of it is grey. Still got all my teeth. Through blind luck I have a job and didn't get burned with a ridiculous mortgage. Things could be worse.
And yet.... the sigh. Problems of the middle class white man.
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