I Believe... [Do I Get Paid to Be Old Now?]
…that turning fifty-five years old this week has officially made me an old curmudgeon in the professional sense. I hope I get my badge and sash soon.
…that turning fifty-five years old this week has officially made me an old curmudgeon in the professional sense. I hope I get my badge and sash soon.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?