I was reading an article in the New York Times online this afternoon and a pop-up asked me if I would be willing to do a readership poll, and I said "ok". The first page was demographics, and the age demographic startled me. I realized I am only two selections from "we don't care how old you are any more".
I have been thinking about getting old and old age recently. I'm not really afraid of getting old. I'm afraid of becoming debilitated, but that's not the same thing as getting old. I want to live to be 80 so I can say whatever I want, whenever I want.
I pretty much wasted my long adulthood, but don't really regret it anymore, because it was kind of fun, and I learned a lot about what not to do with my life. Early middle age was great. Late middle age has been great too. I was fortunate to have an unasked-for but very meaningful mid-life crisis, and just as fortunate to emerge from that intact.
When I was a teenager, I loved staying up late listening to music. I still love doing that. When I am not working anymore, I can regress to being a teenager again. Smoke dope, listen to music, stay up late. Sounds pretty good.
I had a fairly uninteresting day that produced almost nothing in the way of photographs. I spent some time at the office meeting with students, then took off to go buy a toilet, some office supplies, and some groceries. I came home and had some lunch then took a nap. Naps are one of the best things about late middle age. I love having a nap.
After the nap I did some reading before a video conference with my doctorate group for the group project we are working on. We spent an hour figuring out what we were going to do and how to meet the vague requirements. Someone asked one of the professors why the instructions are always so vague, and she responded that they expect doctoral students to figure it out.
After that I started emptying out the living room so that the flooring people will be able to work in there. I cleared off the dining room table. It is always full of all the stuff we bring into the house and don't quite know how to process into a permanent spot.
The cats, unused to an empty table, decided to walk back and forth all over it.