Thanks to all for the birthday wishes. I was sort of downplaying this year’s birthday. It’s pretty much impossible to look at age 45 as anything other than middle age, and I have to admit that it’s been bugging me just a little the past few weeks. Several times, I’ve found myself whining tonight and thinking “I don’t want to be 45.”
But let’s take another look. Between the little cancer episode of 2006 and that scary heart/thyroid thing in 2001, there were a few times in the past ten years when I wasn’t 100% certain I was going to make it to this point. On the more positive side, in the past few years I have also gotten within shouting distance of a master’s degree and at least the prospect of a career I can actually be proud of, become the co-owner of a house I love in a city I like, as well as a house I like in a city I love, and (best of all) spent nearly eight years with a boy who’s made me happier than I’ve ever been before.
From this perspective, middle age looks pretty damned good, huh? I’ve decided that I’m happy as a clam being 45, thank you.