The End of 35
It's late. Well, by my old ass it's late. 11:30. Yes, in the P.M. In about 30 minutes I will be another year older and one day closer to death. Thank you Pink Floyd for that image.
Tomorrow my wife opens the new restaurant that she works for. Tonight we, being her co-management team, all went out for dinner and drinks. I wound up at the bar across the street from our house. Some people might frown on a bar across the street from their respective lives. I think of it as a way to save gas money.
We wound up there, and after swearing that this beer was the last on three different occasions I made the walk home. It was sixty-five degrees out. I loved it.
So, as I was saying, tomorrow my wife opens the new place, and guess what birthday boy will be there to celebrate his "I'm not 40 yet" tour? That's right, this guy.
It's late, I'm buzzed and I've got to pee. I'll see you in the morning, and I'll be the older for it.