This morning, there was a man on my couch.
The head and body were hidden under a blanket, but the legs were sticking out and hanging over the side. Let’s describe those legs: long, thin, tan, semi-hairy. Big feet. Not legs I immediately recognized. The momentary quizzical pause was quickly replaced with startled recognition – the man on the couch was my youngest son. My little boy! Where the hell* did he get those man legs? Yeesh.
This incident was one of many in which I “suddenly” realize that time marches on and that I am not twenty five years old any more. I then marvel at that incredible discovery. I fear that these middle-age realizations will be a theme throughout this blog, which may get old (heh heh). I’ll try to throw a swear word in here and there to keep it interesting.*
*Swear words show a weakness of vocabulary. We throw them around when we cannot adequately articulate a thought. I know this. When I am better able to articulate a thought, I will stop swearing.
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