It's not every day you turn 62. In fact, there's only one day in a person's life when it happens.
Today is that day for me.
It's a strange age to become. It's too young to retire. (Especially for me...I won't be able to afford to retire until the day before I die. Kinda hard to schedule that in advance. I'm thinkin' my final words will be "Oh farnsworth. I could have retired yesterday.")
It's too old to get hired anywhere. I've either got too much life experience or not enough life expectancy.
I've got not enough hair on my head and too much in my ears.
The most exercise I get is walking to the bathroom a few times a night.
One fun fact is that I'm the same age as the Frisbee® flying disc. Disc inventor, Walter Frederick Morrison, named it the Pluto Platter, but I'm pretty sure Wham-O changed it to Frisbee® so it wouldn't sound like people were flinging canine poo-patties.
August 1957 also saw the first national broadcast of American Bandstand. That's not such a bad thing to share a birth month with. It lasted 32 years. I'm glad to have beaten it by three decades, and I say my run so far could be rated a 93...I've got a good beat and I'm easy to dance to.
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