My body is trying to be old. Succeeding admirably, too.

I went three and a half years without contracting Covid. I had my birthday, and the day after, Covid showed up at my door. It was kind enough to wait until after I had my birthday. I suppose that counts for something.

Really, 43. What is up with you? We went forty-two years without taking part in a pandemic. And then, the day of your regime, the very first day, you let insurgents march through our defenses. Really?

I took my mandatory week off. I drank. I rested. Then, two weeks later, I was hit with vertigo. I was told that it was probably Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. I was told that the Epley Maneuver would probably fix it. I was told that quite a few things.

I still do not think that I had BPPV. At least, not the classic version. My body has yet to give me the full run down. It went away, so I stopped asking questions. However, I find my body’s desire to wimp out so early into this new era to be vexing. I still have another twenty-five years of work ahead of me. Minimum. I have miles left to run. I cannot be getting sick all the time. Nope. Get it together, 43.

Also, my Mom is getting lazy. Or, repetitive? Or, confused? I will let you decide.

On the left is the card that my mom bought me for my 42nd birthday. On the right is the one I was gifted for my 43rd.

Uh huh. You see it, right?

The metal cord has since fallen off, but, as tragic as it is, the truth must be told.

My mom bought me the same card twice!

She has made cards before. She sends a card every year. But for all I know, she has a stack of these and each year she takes one from the pile. Do they make birthday cards in bulk? Same picture, same sentiment, same recipient. It would make sense. Does the way you feel about your offspring really change year after year after year?

Look. That is a whole other conversation. The point is this: I caught her.

When cornered, this is the response that she offered.

Yes, knew that I was repeating but it is such a good card and good cards are hard to come by.  There is a lot of cheese in the card industry.  I’m amazed you still have both of them.

I may repear it sgain,

Guilty! Caught in the act! Do not let her typos charm you into taking her side. She knew full well what she was up to.

Although, begrudgingly, I must allow some concessions. There are a few retorts that could be made.

• “Hey, when was the last time that you sent her a card? For any reason?”
• “When was the last time you sent anybody a birthday card, let alone every single year?”
• “Have you given birth to anyone? No? Then shush.”
• “Weren’t you 9 lbs. and 10 oz. when you were born? You owe her the card, not the other way around. Twerp.”
• “Maybe if you cleaned your apartment more often and cleared those stacks of bills and notices then you would not have two birthday cards cluttering up your space.”

Whose side are you on? I am clearly the injured party here. My mom takes the easy way out. My immune system turns on me. It is all falling apart. Will the barrage of betrayals ne’er cease?

Okay, 42 is the answer. We know that. From where I am sitting, 43 is the monkey wrench. The wheels are starting to come off. No wonder I felt so dizzy.