Tomorrow I turn seventy-two.

I don’t feel seventy-two and am told I neither look nor act seventy-two.  However, nothing says ‘seventy-two’ like two procedures scheduled for the upcoming two months, cataract surgery and — like the one I had this time last year around my birthday — another cardiac ablation.

My medical tech friend says I should have gotten the extended warranty

Tomorrow is also the second anniversary of Trump occupation of Washington DC.  With something very like complicity on my part, the madness of the past two years has drained the life out of me.  I need some joy.

While I was in the hospital last week, Stephen gave me a new Apple Watch for my upcoming birthday.  I gave him the ‘old’ one I got to monitor my ‘vitals’ after I was in the hospital last year.  That model could read your pulse.  This new model can generate an instant electrocardiogram.

Nothing says ‘seventy-two’ like excitement over an instant EKG