Today was my 47th birthday. Seeing or hearing the previous sentence is odd.

When I think about a 47-year-old, I think about a balding, middle-aged dude who watches the 6 o’clock news and mows his lawn. I don’t feel like that guy.

Instead, I’m more like someone in his early thirties—rents his pad, has a nascent career, and says “rad” often.

Maybe age is simply a number. And one’s mindset is a better inndicator for their age.