Aging

I am twenty-eight years old. I can say that for only so much longer, so I am saying it as much as I can. Twenty-eight, twenty-eight, twenty-eight.

The Captain's thirtieth birthday is also this week; his day has taken precedence over mine, of course. Twenty-nine is still a significant number, [FN1] however, so I offer some reflections on my twenty-eighth year:

It was pretty good! Lots of great things happened: I ran my first half-marathon, the Red Sox won the World Series, I achieved anonymous fame by way of this blog, I graduated from law school, and I moved in with the Captain.

(I took the bar, too, but that wasn't a great thing. Here's hoping that twenty-nine will bring news of my admission.)

Twenty-eight, twenty-eight, twenty-eight...
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FN1. The Chinese, for example, consider the nines (19, 29, 39) more auspicious than the whole decades. The word for nine, jiu, sounds like a word meaning longevity and long duration. On the other hand, the word for the decades, shi, sounds like the word for death. I think that's all I really need to say about that.