getting used to the idea that I'm 37. Because tonight at 7:00 pm, I officially turn 38.
Now why, must I spend all day getting used to being 37, you ask, gentle reader? Because I woke up this morning thoroughly and unequivocally convinced that I was 36 TURNING 37. Whereas in truth, because it's all about TRUTH, I'm 37 TURNING 38!
I know, math has never been my strong point. Harrumph.
Anyway, it's not like this is the first time I've ever flubbed my age. When I was in the hospital with my first son during his illness, I literally lost two years. We were in the hospital almost two years, where a person loses all time and space perspective, let alone trivialities like days, weeks, months and how old you are. I could recite his birth story asleep because every intern that walks in takes that part of the medical history, but I could not remember how old I was. Blame it on sleep deprivation or stress or whatever. But I was convinced I was 24 when actually I was 26.
Now, thankfully I don't have that whole hospital thing going on to blame this mental pause on, which actually now as I type that out in some respects makes things worse. Because I do have readily available calendars and iCal on the Mac, and a checkbook with a calendar, and a calculator to do the math for me, but for whatever reason, I missed it.
Hence, a couple of things come out of this, I'm only going to be--in my mind--37 for about 12 hours. And secondly, I'm going to re-institute the wisdom of children and begin to count my years with halves. So at Christmastime, if you ask my age, I'll respond, "I'm 38 1/2."