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Ruminations: Nothing but Saturdays

There are some advantages to getting older. Obviously, there are some disadvantages as well, but I’m not going to enumerate them now. Why should I ruin your day as well as mine?

 

By John A. Schwarz

 

There are some advantages to getting older. Obviously, there are some disadvantages as well, but I’m not going to enumerate them now. Why should I ruin your day as well as mine?

 

It used to be that I hated Mondays. Initially, because they meant going back to school, occasionally dealing with unpleasant teachers, homework, exams and, in two memorable semesters, having to take trigonometry and physics, which still rank in the top ten most miserable experiences of my life.  

 

Later on, when I went to work on Mondays, it meant beginning five days of unbelievably unpleasant commuting, dealing once in a while with irate clients and explaining to non-irate clients that the 16-year bear market would someday come to an end.

 

Fridays and Saturdays were wonderful, Saturdays, the better of the two. By then the angst I had endured during the week had pretty much worn off.

 

Now, with my school and workdays behind me, I wake up Monday morning and look forward to seven Saturdays in a row. It doesn’t get any better than that.

 

But with age come other changes. When I was a child, I was told that if I had trouble getting to sleep I should count sheep. Why sheep? I was never able to figure that one out. I would have thought rivers of the world, state capitals, or Civil War battlefields would have been more interesting and just as effective. Anyhow, now when I have trouble sleeping I have adopted a new method. I start counting my grandchildren, a not insignificant amount, and then move on to counting my doctors. Just after I have named my dermatologist and my oncologist, but before I get to my urologist, I’m usually off to the Land of Nod.


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