For solitary social misfits like me special accessions can take on a rather scary and perplexing quality. I can celebrate, to about the same extent, any time I want. That is to say I can; have a meal with friends, get a massage, go for a walk, sleep in, do nothing all day and so on, any time I want. However you can not unthink a thought. Once I think what should I do on (mainly birthdays and Christmas) then I am stuck with the thought. I can no longer do nothing, I would have to DO nothing. I could not just relax on the Sofer; I would have to use a great amount of energy pinning my self down to the Sofer, and would end the day exorsted from DOING nothing, and probably in a state of miserable depression.
Then, however, whatever I do will seem irrelevant. I have had 57 birthdays. What is another one more or less? On top of all that, anything I do I have to organise. I do not like organising even simple, and if I organise it badly then it will go badly and I will end up depressed again.
On top of that I have been angry with birthdays, since my late twenties, because they are responsible for making me older. At a stretch 57 can be regarded as mid 50s. 58 is nearly 60! and there is no way in which 60 can be thought of as just over middle aged!
Do I feel old? A lot of the time I forget my age, and the rest of the time I do not know how I am supposed to behave. Actually I feel too tired to write any more. I think I will call this part 1, and maybe write some more tomorrow.
