February 3, 2012: Old, old, old.

So, today I’m 50 years old.

I look 70. And most days I feel like I’ve lived for 300 years.

My day began, quite literally, with a bang. At about 7 in the morning Ohio time (we’re at our house in Niles for a few days—I couldn’t bear the thought of turning 50 inPhoenix), Todd and I were roused from sleep by a colossal bang. We figured it was just the trash collector’s truck—Fenton Street is an almost eerily quiet street, and everything that happens outside sounds like it’s happening in our front room, which is what your living room is called in Niles, no matter where it’s located in your house. But about an hour later we were awake, because the house, which has its original 100-year-old single-paned windows and leaks heat like a sieve—was suddenly glacial.

It turns out that the bang we’d heard was some drunken asshole driving into an electrical pole at the other end of our block. Who’s drunk at 7 in the morning? And why, when we realized we had no electricity, was my husband’s first question, “Did you pay the electric bill?” It’s my fucking birthday!

Smug. And ancient!

The nice folks at the City of Niles got the power back on in about an hour, and in the meantime, Todd (the nicest man inNorth America) brought me breakfast in bed. I did not ask him why he delivered it without a tray or why the coffee cup did not match the dinner plate. That would have been rude.

Speaking of coffee cups, the one I’m drinking from in the photo above (a gift from my cousin Sandra) was my grandfather’s; he drank his coffee from it every morning. And, when I’m in Niles, so do I.

Thing I Hate Today: The fact that I’ll never live long enough to read all the books I’d like to.


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