Now, according to "The Official Un-Written Rules of the Known Universe" (a book that records all of the unwritten rules), I am not at liberty to publicly announce my wife's age. However, I am allowed to announce mine. Actually, according to that same book, so could she.
I am...36. And, I'm not quite sure what to think about that.
Now, if you think that my wife's birthday is what got me pondering my own life and mortality...then you'd be wrong. It's just a coincidence really.
You see, her birthday just happened to be the same day that I went to get a haircut. Which, quite honestly, was the first hair cut I've had in...way too long! Actually, it looked like I hadn't cut it since the 80's. Over the last few weeks, I have been sporting a thick, partial mullet-like do, that feathered and curled at my shoulders. Not good. I know.
Anyways, it was as I was getting my locks chopped that I noticed, amongst the falling hair, a fair bit of...grey. And that got me thinking. I'm getting old.
Not old old, mind you. I mean, I still have all my teeth and don't find Bingo all that exciting. But, in general, grey hair is a sign of significant accumulation of years.
I have been alive for over three and a half decades. I find that weird. I am presently living in my fourth calendar decade...and about to pass into my fifth. Birthed in the 70's, shaped by the 80's, confused by the 90's, greyed by the 00's (I don't know how to say that) and who knows what the 10's have in store for me. Probably Arthritis.
But, depending on who you believe, I'm not even half way through my life. According to the CIA (who, based on an uncanny similarity in their stats, apparently get their information from Wikipedia) I should live 78.69 years. This puts my death - taking into account Leap Years - around Mar. 28, 2052...late evening. If your Jewish that would be the during the years 5812-5813, Buddhist the year 2596 and Islamic between 1474-1475. And, if you happen to follow Unix Time it will fall somewhere between 2587680000 and 2619302399.
Regardless...It's a Thursday. Sadly, I might miss that evenings episode of Survivor 104! Anyways, mark that day on your calendars. Actually circle the Monday. April 1st would be a great day to have my funeral.
But circle it in pencil, because Statistics Canada doesn't even think I'll get that far. They say I'll only live 78.4 years. My own country is short changing me three and half months. So, just a heads up to all my friends and family...You might not get Christmas presents from me in 2051.
The United Nations says I won't live beyond 78.3 years! There's another month gone. But, if anyone knows for sure, it's the United Nations. Figuring out life expectancy is what they spend most of their time doing...along with listing the nicest countries to live in.
Then, there is one particular Facebook application that says I'll make it to "Between 75 and up". Now, I'm not sure this one is very scientific though, because the only other possible result was "Between 75 and down".
And what if they mean Draconic years...or even Lunar years. That could shave up to 5 months off my expected Gregorian life span.
Regardless, I figure I have, at the very least, 39 more years...if all goes well. By "going well" I mean that I don't start smoking, I don't have to stay in any Super 8 Motels and I manage to keep myself out of the path of rampaging axe murderers.
In fact, what I really need to do is convince my family to move to Iceland, because if the stats are right...the fountain of youth abides amongst the Nordic people. That move would buy me another couple of years...which I'd probably just use up during my first skiing expedition. So maybe I'll just stay where I am, dye my hair and see what happens.
Of course, why bother with the dye. There is always a chance, that those wacky Mayans were right and in 2012...we're all done anyways. Grey hair or not.
Have a good one,