Does 40 Mean Anything?
I woke up Monday morning, and I was 40 years old. My phone already had updates from insomniac friends wishing me a happy birthday, and our new puppy was already trying to eat my wife’s hair. So far, aside from the Facebook stuff, it’s just like yesterday. But is there anything else to it? Should I have special feelings about today?
40 is supposed to be a big deal. People sing, joke, and even even make movies about it. If all of the pop culture material is correct, I should be freaking out right now. I should be contemplating my mortality, bemoaning my lost youth, or getting into some kind of wacky shenanigans with my single male friends. I think the official procedure includes a strip club and a drug dealer somehow.
I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you if you’re looking for excitement, but here are my thoughts about being 40.
Facebook Made Me a Birthday Person
I don’t tend to make a big deal out of my birthday. I started getting fit as an adult, so I don’t have high school glories to live up to. For me, age is a measure of exercise. Sure, my top end isn’t what it used to be, but when have I ever really seen my top end? My top speed? My top anything? I still have plenty of room to build, so I don’t really feel that I’m slowing down. That is, unless I get lazy with my running schedule.
Still, 40 is a big number, and it’s one that everyone talks about. Facebook was practically on fire all day from the updates sent by just about everyone I even slightly know. I have to admit, it was nice. Haven’t heard from some of them in a while. I also got some calls and texts, mostly during the day and with family waiting until dinner to call.
I also did pretty well at home. Without me finding out, Cara had run around and bought me some gifts. My Birthday Haul included a mug from Dublin, a movie from Finnea, and a t-shirt from Cara. (Yes, the first two are our dogs. I guess they shop mostly shop on the Internet.)
This is what happens when your wife really knows you. The movie was extremely cute, although it took us over an hour to get through the first 20 minutes. We can thank the puppy for that. We love her, but I’ll admit that I’ve been checking the price of tranquilizer guns on Amazon.
General Thoughts Without More Rambling
We all make jokes about being over the hill, but 40 doesn’t feel any different from 35, or even 30. For me, it’s all bout the exercise. In fact, the only thing giving me trouble at this point in my life is having to stop whatever I’m doing every five minutes to deal with a puppy. Just now I discovered a problem with the comments on this site, but I’m not sure when I’ll have time to track down the problem and fix it. I might switch the theme or something. (Edit: The problem was the Jetpack comments module. The plugin devs broke it for Firefox. I turned it off and now I’m okay.)
What we’re left with is this: my only troubles with being 40 is having an energetic puppy. In a few months, she’ll settle down and I guess I’ll feel 30 again.