Sixty years can’t be a perfect age. Because after all, it’s … 6 0.

I never imagined that I could ever reach such an ancient bone-chilling spine-humping, arthritically-challenging age.

And why would I want to?

60 means death and neutrality. Yes, that’s the word. By the time a person reaches 60, she’s neutral.

Blank.

Close to negative.

Unimportant.

Uncool.

Un…I could add a hundred “un’s,” but suddenly what comes to mind is UNCOMPROMISING. Continue reading →