I've lived with my troubles for so long that they're pretty much like my toenails or my elbows: just there as part of the whole. If they act up more than usual they get a little more attention until they quiet down again.

Actually, to me at least, my problems are so old they're boring and irritating. I can't wait to get rid of them, if I ever can. T isn't terribly optimistic in that respect, and I'm not happy hearing her. Supposedly, us oldsters are just going to have to put up with at least some of that crap forever, which (happy side) won't be all that long.

This pisses me off intensely and very much helps me continue my attachment to all kinds of behaviors that would, if I were thirty, be considered self-destructive. I mean, if I can't wind up without the pain I've always lived with, why not drink? smoke? eat at McDonald's? Keep in mind, all of those behaviors are in no sense whatsoever religious edicts. You're not going to be excluded from Heaven because you eat Big Macs. Or smoke. Or drink. Even to excess. And I don't have any grandchildren whose weddings I'll miss.

All of this future-oriented behavior is really entirely beside the point if (a) you're not able to shape up psychologically and shed those kilos of misery you've always had to live with, or (b) you really don't have great events to stay alive for. Do I really need to see the crux of global warming? Idiots in the White House? A second Great Depression? Just give me a large order of fries and another pack of butts.