If I count my years by the number of gray hairs on my head then

I would be ageless and immortal

38 years on this planet, and it’s been rough going here and there, but I haven’t yeeted myself into the sun yet, so that feels good. And at the rate this planet is heating up, I may not even have to. Haha, climate change jokes, I have to laugh or else I will cry.

Anyway, this year I am fighting a losing battle with the encroaching grays on my head, and I don’t really mind, except I would rather they unionize and come in all at once so I could be a cool, youthful looking silver-haired person instead of a brunette who may or may not have dandruff? (Seriously, I can’t tell you how many times I have caught the glitter of silver under the bathroom lights and thought it was dandruff, except I don’t have dandruff; it was a gray hair.)

Having a mid-year birthday is a little strange. As a child it meant no one came to my birthday parti…