Friday June 6, 2008
Some people seem to be able to make much of growing older, to the extent of getting all analytical and literary about it, sometimes. More power to their hopefully non-arthritic elbow, that’s what I say.
To me, growing older is no great shakes. You’re born. You stop bawling, plop your thumb in your mouth, and wait for something interesting to happen. After a while, you pull your thumb out of your mouth and get busy with your life. Then, business done, you plop your thumb back in your mouth and sit in the window looking out. Nothing clever about it.
And the problem with wearing the bottoms of your trousers rolled is that your ankles get chilly.