I don't mind getting older, it seams to me to be wholly acceptable considering the alternative. However, as I am typing, I'm starting my 9,937th day on the planet; 63 days short of my 10,00th. That's somewhat of a milestone surely? Don't get me wrong, I'm as much of a fan of the trusted Gregorian scheme as the next person, but clearly 1, 10, 100, 1000 , 10,000, etc. Is much more of a rousing series than that sad row of numbers you see on the shelves of the greetings card shops. But ten-thousand, that's a strong number, and unless Aubrey de Grey and his pals get their fingers out, it's not very likely I'm going to see a hundred grand. This maybe, in all likelihood, the last decimal birthday of my life. Now, I'm not the kind of person that takes well to revelations like that, "I'm too frigging young to have my last anything" has been the extent of my patter for the past week. But its true, that's just the way the cruel base-10 gods role, in 63 days time, it will be the 6th of March, the last day I can rightfully ware a badge declaring my age in days to be 10 raised to a integer power. I'm not ready to be 10,000, I'm nowhere near were I should be at such an august point a my life: I've never worn a morning suit, I've never watch a whole series of 24 in a single day (which only takes 18 hours), never been to the Maltings in York for a pint of Blach Sheep and a plate of there famous 'Just' chips! What the f@%k I have been doing. I guess I could start counting in undecimal, but that only buys me 4,641 days, and that's hardly worth the trouble. Moreover, lets just face up to it: Im too fat, too slothful and a pretty mediocre (boy)friend, college and son. Of-course I know that 2 months Is far too short a time to become a Michael that's: thin, diligent and an excellent (boy)friend, college and son, I think I owe it to the 6th of March to be a little better. So my 10,000 birthday present to myself is to be a wee bit thinner, a little more diligent and a more considerate (boy)friend, college and son.
Shabba!
Shabba!
