Fittyone

So today I'm fifty one years old.

It still confounds me that I lived to this age - that I didn't off myself unwittingly in my youth.  I did so many stupid things.  But, back then I was immortal, invincible, and didn't really care about anything but getting laid and having fun, as in partying..  While I still enjoy getting laid a great deal, I'm considerably less interested in partying these days.  While I do partake in an occasional glass of whisky or rum (sometimes a few), I'm more content being a homebody, or spending time with friends.  Bars don't do it for me anymore, and haven't really for a good number of years.

These days I find myself wondering, perhaps morbidly, how I'm going to kick the bucket.  I mean, am I going to die suddenly of a heart attack at 52?  Contract some disease and go out slowly and gracefully?  Get hit by a buss?  Live until I'm 105?

I also catch myself wondering what the my first physical malfunction will be.  I've been extremely (and I mean extremely) fortunate over the years in that I've had virtually nothing go wrong with me.  In the ailments department, I've had a ruptured disc in my back, a few broken bones, and a deviated septum, which I had fixed a few years ago.  And that's it, bitches.  Seriously.

In closing, my friends, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I stay healthy enough so I can finish my photo cataloging and genealogy research for my kids. I would also prefer not to die of a fucking heart attack.  It just seems too painful and quick.  Quick may be good in some cases, but not in the case of a heart attack. I can just imagine all the shit that would go through my mind in those last few seconds.  What I forgot to say, do, etc.  Just doesn't sound like much fun at all, and we all know that death is supposed to be fun now, don't we?

Anyway...I'm going to have a great dinner tonight, and a weekend with my kids.  I'm muchly looking forward to it.  :-)