Maybe it’s because I’ve had too many birthdays and that’s a good thing. The bad thing is that after, say age forty, your birthday just reminds you that you’re that much closer to not having any more birthdays and that’s a bad thing. Kids can’t wait for their next birthday and why not: they get presents, a cake and a party. Adults get condolences. Maybe when asked our age we should just say the decade. That way, when you’re in your fifties you could be 51 or 59—In your fifties lets you go about your business without feeling 59. Heck I could put my own socks on when I was 51. So, the next time you approach your birthday, ignore it until you flip a decade—unless that birthday qualifies you for half-price Tuesdays at your favorite buffet. Then it’s hand me a plate and get out of my way. It’s time to eat. Listen to Grumpy Old Dan Smith weekdays on WLHA, the Big 64.