Well, it's almost that time again: Birthday Time. While I do enjoy me some good birthday festivities, I always find it a little difficult to say exactly what I want to do, and where I'd like to go. However, there is one thing that I do know for sure about birthdays, and it is this: Getting older sucks.

I keep telling myself that it's stupid to dread getting older because we all do it, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Seriously, though, why did no one inform me that I might as well have just not worried at all while I was a kid, because I had so many years ahead of me in which to worry about everything.

EVERYTHING.

So I've been working on myself for the last couple of years, trying to stop being such an anal-retentive worrywartish control freak, but really all that I've accomplished is to shift from worrying about one group of things to worrying about a different group of things.

I also drink more beer, but I think that's a plus, not a minus. At least, at this point.

Anyhow, the other day when I was at work, a patient came in from the assisted living facility. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying not to cry, because it made me so sad that her big day out was to go to the dentist, and someday that's going to be me. All alone, in my motorized scooter (screw wheelchairs, man...I want something with a motor), doing my hair to go get my teeth cleaned. All alone.

Maybe this is hormonal. I have no idea. All I know is that if I don't stop being freaked out about dying alone in a place where no one gives a crap about me, I will never have any fun at all.

And that is lame.

Also, I plan to start socking away money in a 401(K) so I can afford to live in a fancy place where no one gives a crap about me. At least the food will be better.

I realize that I'm married, but I've done the math (actually, there's a calculator online for this very thing), and there is a 69% chance that I will outlive him. Unless we Thelma and Louise it when we're about 90, which I think sounds pretty fun, except there's no way we'll be driving when we're 90.

This may be my most morbid blog post ever. It is also Monday, which may have something to do with my topic. Because yuck.

At any rate, I think my plans for the next year will just be to keep trying not to worry about every little thing. Especially aging, because we're all doing it, at exactly the same rate of speed, so there's not a whole lot that I can do to change the situation. Except I should probably use more moisturizer and drink more water. That seems to be the best solution.