All the books about aging inform me of how wonderful it is that I have so much time on my hands. It’s as if I’m a 5-year-old kid in an old-fashioned candy store, and my extra minutes and days are being displayed in giant glass jars for me to just stick my hand in and grab as many as I can to stuff in my pockets for later.
What a bunch of bunk that turned out to be. For one thing, the last proverbial old-fashioned candy store I found was way back when I was in college. There were jars of minutes and days to goof off with, because I didn’t quite have the whole purpose of a higher education fully in my grasp. It was a great time until they asked me not to come back.
Nowadays, I feel more like a 73-year-old man savoring the last few precious morsels of sweetness.