Sixty fucking five. Dammit.

got a chuckle at myself yesterday, when it dawned on me I'd been so busy tearing up a year's living tending the dog etc, reminded in the evening by an advertising email from the dentist I refuse to return to (too stingey with the gas) reminded me yesterday was my 65th birthday. Laughing out loud because I've shared the following joke with patients for about as long as my career: I credit mom with this barb:
"When's your birthday?" (Identification requirement) "Oh, don't remind me."
"Years ago I was turning 30 I told all my friends and family I'm not having any more birthdays. Don't send me a card, don't bake me a cake, I'm not doing it!! But then sure as clockwork, someone like the dentist sends me a birthday card and I have to go through with it after all."
It actually was nice let it pass unceremoniously for a change. But pisses me off to that I paid full fare on the bus 2 days before I could have paid half that. 😁
I need to laminate my Medicare card.
Jesus have I become this pragmatic? Missing my beloved who would have created a fire hazard with 65 candles on a cake. Long career of travel gigs all over (and I really do mean ALL over) the state of California. I now know thousands of people.
But none of them well. Not even one who bothers to say "Hi, how ya doing". Even my adoptive son, busy with his career now didn't say hello. (That one a bit interesting because he's learning today why sometimes I forgot his)
Scares me to get close. First the 1980's AIDS crisis. 5 of my friends, my whole crew. Gone. The city looks like a collection of tall gravestones to me. But I still go there. Sometimes worked there. But other than the same doctor I've kept for decades I know no one there anymore.
But here I go, unceremoniously relocating again for another gig.