It isn't that the year has been entirely bad, not at all. It's just that I'm ready for something fresh, something no one has ruined yet; a virgin year, if you will. After your average New Year's Eve party, there'll be very little virginity left, generally speaking, but that's not my personal problem. Nor will it be nine months from now, when those persons' "personal problem" has gotten a lot more personal. This just goes to prove once again that drinking impairs good judgment. Also, it makes you forget or not care that you left something important in the glove compartment of your car. Even though you're in the back seat.
Once again, not my personal problem. I don't go out on New Year's Eve, and haven't for many years. Partly, I want to avoid those people who've been drinking, whose judgment has been impaired, who have forgotten important things, and are trying to drive from the back seat while they're busy doing something else. I don't drink, anyway, and there's a limited amount of fun sitting around watching other people get smashed. Especially since I don't have a video camera, with the which I might make a profit on the evening. The Small Business Administration seems to think that this enterprise is unworthy of a loan. I say, they've never looked at the Internet.
As always, I look back on the year with mixed feelings. Certainly, it was a landmark year in many respects: My spouse and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary, I went to my 30th high school reunion, and my daughter just graduated from college. These are all fine, wonderful things.
That make me feel old.
"You're only as old as you feel!", younger people cheerily claim. That's part of the problem. Take a lesson from the Eye Wit, my friends, and take the extended warranty out on your body. I feel a lot older at the end of 2007 than I did at the beginning. And why is this? Hair greying? Yes, but only about 20% so far, and it's not falling out, hooray. Wrinkles? Really haven't any, I stay out of the sun, since I come from a long line of pasty, white people. No, it's internal systems that are the culprit, and I kind of only have myself to blame. I managed to get in two plays and the annual Christmas program this year. All well and good; great, in fact. Both plays were a lot of fun and turned out very well. What more could one ask?
Glad you asked.
The first one was Godspell, a bit of a surprise to find myself in. It was a sort of left-handed deal and I got drafted, but this was fine. Until opening night, when I (playing the Judas part) ran out to do a bit of betraying, and bent my knee decidedly sideways. For those of you who did not take Anatomy by Braille as I did, let me point out that the knee is not meant to go that way. Alas, I spent the rest of the run in a knee brace and in a good degree of pain. Small wonder, as it turned out; I'd torn the meniscus cartilage in that knee. This required arthroscopic surgery, which went very well, and I can't say enough good things about the practice that performed it except that anesthesiologist and his cryptic billing practices. Prognosis: Back to nearly normal in a month, and in about six months, I'd supposedly never realize that anything was ever wrong.
So it might have been.
But then, I got into this other play. Deceptive thing it was, too; on reading it, it seemed a lot easier to do that it turned out to be. Oh, it wasn't the pratfalls that were the problem; I've had plenty of practice falling down, since I am one of the least graceful people I know. No, it was the part where I was jumping up & down because I couldn't get my trousers off to have some hot sex with my co-star (on stage, you perverts). Later, I had to hop on that one leg several times. All of this was inadvisable, since the healing process hadn't completed. I didn't know it at the time, but shortly after the play closed, my knee caught up with me, and has been going downhill ever since. That tends to make one walk funny.
So, I limp (not without some embarrassment) back to the orthopedic surgeon's office to see what the deal is. That was this last Wednesday, and I'll be heading for an MRI on Monday.... because it seems like I've torn some more cartilage, but in a different area this time. This will likely lead to some more surgery, and I might get back to normal (if I'm careful this time) right about the time that it will have been a year since I did the play that injured it the first time.
So, there you are. My knee is going to cost me an entire year of pain and inconvenience, not to mention the money. I'd like to convince myself that it's just the knee, but since the thing is connected to the rest of my body, it's hard to deny that the rest of it isn't as old as it is. While at a doctor visit last October, he was ordering up some routine annual blood tests, and began to talk about what we'd be doing when I'm 50. Thanks very much, but that isn't for another two years and I'd rather not talk or think about it. Sure, it's hysterically funny that my brother turned 50 this year, but let's keep our perspective in focus. I do not want a colonoscopy, Sam I Am, I'd rather have green eggs and spam.
So, there you have my chief complaint about 2007: Time marched on. I don't care if it's perfectly natural or the order of the universe; I got dragged along with it this time, and I'm a bit testy about it. OK, OK, I'm going to have to start being more careful and remember that not only will I break more easily now, it'll probably never be the same if I do.
Maybe I should start acting my age.
Nah.
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