Lordy Lordy...

Well, I just turned the big four-oh. I have just taken my first step on a slippery slope that will inevitably lead to geezerhood, with its Matlock and its large ear horns and its adult diapers and its damn kids playing on my lawn...

So, why is 40 such a milestone? Because it's divisible by 5. Why does that matter? I'm glad you asked, Louise. Our entire number system is based on the fact that we have 5 fingers on each hand. That's why we count the way we do. If we had 6 fingers on each hand, like so many of those lucky hillbilly bastards in the Appalachians, then I'd only be 34 and we wouldn't be having this conversation. Conversely if all we had were our thumbs, then I'd be 101,000 years old. But I digress...

Actually, 40 wasn't quite as traumatic as I thought it would be. I've got a great job doing something I enjoy. I've got a smart, beautiful, funny woman who, inexplicably, seems just as enamored of me as I am of her. I've got good friends, a loving family... I've still got half my grandparents, for Chrissake! And despite the fact that the lines are starting to show around my eyes and the gray is creeping into my temples, I still occasionally get carded when buying beer. Hell, my mid-life is way better than my youth ever was!

For all my bubbling optimism, I suppose there is one fly in the ointment. When I was younger, it was always my fantasy to have people admiring something I had written, shaking their heads in astonishment and saying, "He's how old? Seriously? How could someone his age produce such amazing work?" But that ship has sailed. No matter how much I excel at something, no matter how much I dazzle my audience, I will never be a prodigy. But I'm a firm believer in lighting a candle rather than cursing the goddamn darkness, so I've adjusted my fantasy somewhat. Maybe when I'm in my 90s, people will be admiring something I've written, shaking their heads in astonishment, and saying, "He's how old? Seriously? How could someone his age produce such amazing work?"

Yeah, I know it's a pretty pedestrian fantasy. But that's because I haven't got to the part about being punished by Amanda Peet's identical twin great-granddaughters...