I Think I'm Forty-Something

I say think because, really, I could just as well be thirty-something, thirty and eleven, or twenty-something, twenty and twenty-one.  I mean technically I could, couldn't I?  I'm not diggin forty-something at all.  Forty-something means that I might be half way done--if you get my meaning.  It's also the number of calories I can now consume in a day without exploding. It's the number of minutes I spend cleaning each day, up sharply from thirteen just a year ago, and, I'm sure, a sign of impending senility.  It's how fast I sometimes find myself driving, both on the highway and through school zones.  It's roughly what I spend each month on herbal remedies for the diseases I only think I have and let's not go into how close it comes to the number of times I must call myself each month to find my cell phone. Of course, forty-something isn't all bad.  Sure I've had to give up the pretense that my gray is just "highlights", but I can remember when Jon Bon Jovi was young, when MTV played music videos and when Johnny Depp was on 21 Jump Street.