Today, the 17th of December, is my wife's birthday.
Another year older, despite all hopes and intentions to stay young forever.
It's interesting how some people seem to enjoy the process of birthdays, while others hate them with a vengeance.
Leah, my wife, fits into the latter category.
It seems that every year around mid November, her mood starts to get dark and stormy. Gradually getting worse until it climaxes in the days just before her birthday, at which point she gives up in the struggle against time, and concedes that she'll just have to get a year older.
In turn this leaves her depressed until the end of the year.
It's interesting to think that some scientists claim we are one of the last generations who will die of old age [I wish I had a couple of links to back up that comment...I guess I'll have to go searching].