Time is a continuous and linear kind of measurement. Little kids often think about catching up in years to their older sibs or parents. We look at them lovingly and knowingly and explain that Big Sister Judy is always gonna be four years older than you and even when you're both grandparents she'll remind you of that and that her only regrets are not flushing you down the toilet when you were born. (But maybe time isn't quite as linear as we tell the kids -- well those spawn of ours who are deciding whether to join AARP, anyway. ... Kids, my ass!)
Oops! I got a Big Sister, Judy ... Am I remembering something.
Any case, M has caught up with me. After all these 49 years together and the past seven with my heart going irregularly pitter-patter out of sinus rhythm, M has developed an arrhythmia, herself.
This Summer when we go on bike rides together, we can carry signs for "The Arrhythmics."
Or "The atonals." .... yeah, or just "Fools with Drools!"
Whoopee!
(Why do I expect the usual flow of questions about whether -- after telling bad jokes -- I'm depressed.)
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