(no subject)

And I suppose I should take this moment, between running around like a decaptitated chicken, to bemoan my upcoming birthday. I've heard it said that one isn't old until they're fourty, but I can't help but think thirty is old enough to start anticipating death.

Everyone tries to tell me that I look not a day over twenty-two (a statement I appreciate, but hardly believe.) Perhaps I should change my image! A stolid elder, perhaps? Sigh, it's on my thoughts more than a man likes to admit, of late.

Thirty. My, my. I suppose I should do my very best to make the most of my youth!