Hippo Birdies Triple-Hexadecimal
Today marks 3 x 2^4 years since I made an illegal uterine U-turn and backed into this life. That’s 17,532 days of cardiovascular goodness; circa 2 Billion heartbeats. I’m three times the age I was when I got my first kiss. Presbyopia is now nagging me, and my temples are graying.
TMI, you say? Be that as it may, I have an existential dilemma. This birthday is a round number, arguably rounder than 50 (2 x 5^2). I should celebrate. But how?
“Take the day off!” cry the masses. But I haven’t had a regular job since the late 1980’s. I don’t usually give any of my clients notice for taking a day off, and they rarely notice.
“Buy yourself something nice.” But I have a bad habit of buying what catches my fancy, plus an instinct not to fancy expensive or frivolous things. Ignore my slide rule, camera, and typewriter collections. Also, I recently ordered 10 lbs of aluminum dust, a controlled substance that will be brightly expended. You’ll hear more about that in July. (hint)
“Do something fun,” is good advice. But I don’t have a routine of drudgery to escape from. My aching, aging shoulder is too sore to properly “do” the City Museum, but I may go dancing in the evening.
