It’s 2:00. I started lunch a little late today because I had a couple of meetings and my company officially announced the new post-Covid telecommuting policy. So I’m writing my lunch post at 2:00pm instead of 1:00pm.
Harry found his keys! WOOHOO!! They were in his backpack all along. Sweet. We still have to get him a spare, but for now all is well. We can get a spare at our leisure.
I haven’t played guitar in two weeks. The facebook mind reading last night had me inspired for some searching of the Google for some absurdly expensive vintage Les Pauls and now I just want to play and play and play. I made it worse by reading an article about the new Gibson Murphy Lab were Tom Murphy brings his aging process to Gibson Custom Shop guitars and, while I really don’t love the idea of artificially aged guitars, they look awesome. Maybe I’ll get some playing tomorrow.
Speaking of tomorrow. It’s now 2:15pm which means I only have nine hours and 45 minutes left in my 40’s. Shit. When I turned 40, Jen got a bunch of my family and friends together and we all went out to a fancy restaurant and had a great night. My 30th birthday was a shit show. I started freaking out about turning 30 on my 28th birthday. The idea of only having one more 20-something birthday left really screwed me up. I spent my 30th birthday… at Larry’s, I think. Pretty sure it was Larry’s old place on Chandler street. I think I was nursing a little heartache over some forgotten woman that I was much better off without. 30 was a bad time for me, but without it I wouldn’t have been where I needed to be for 36. My 36th birthday came about a month after I started dating Jen. They’ve all been pretty good since then. I have Jen and Harry and Bellana to thank for that. 50 will be fine too. It’s just that existential dread that comes from knowing, as Captain Picard once said, that there are fewer days ahead than behind. Harry has teasingly dropped the words “half a century” a few times. I’m fine with the reality of that, but the idea is pretty disturbing. Back in my late teens I convinced myself that I wouldn’t live to see 40. I don’t know why. Suck it, teenage self, how do you like me now?
It’s 2:30 now. 9.5 hours left in my 40’s. Oh well, what can you do, right?