Today is my last full day of being in my thirties. Yes, tomorrow I finally turn forty, and I really don't care.
Really. I think I've already stressed about it too much over the last couple of months. Now that it's finally here, it doesn't seem like such a big deal after all. I still don't like the concept of being "middle-aged" - but I can deal with the numerical situation.
However, I do plan to be away from home tomorrow, just in case. I really don't want to be answering the phone all day, saying, "Yes, forty. Thank you." Leslie and I will be going to Carmel for the day and night, returning sometime Wednesday afternoon.
I had already reached these conclusions regarding age before reading the news this morning that George Harrison expects to die soon from cancer. Over the last few years he's been treated for throat cancer and lung cancer, as well as having had to recover from a knife attack from a would-be assassin in his home. Now he's got a tumor in his brain.
Despite all this, according to Harrison friend and former Beatle producer, George Martin, Harrison is still feeling positive and not letting this get him down. "He does realize that everybody has got to die some time," says Martin. "He has been near death many times and he's been rescued many times as well. But he knows he is going to die soon and he's accepting it perfectly happily."
After that, how can I complain about just another damn birthday?
I'll post again when we return from Carmel.