Don't Fear the Reaper

I have a birthday ritual. Every year on my birthday, I go to the gym. I perform the same exercises each year, recording the results and creating a year-to-year record of my inevitable decline. Some might say it shows of my fear of aging rather better than my physical abilities, and there might be some truth to what some might say. And however self-flagellating, it does have the salutary effect of pushing me to the gym in the weeks leading up the Big Test.

This year, circumstances are forcing me to modify the ritual. This year, the game isn't "can I still do this or that," it's "can I remember where I put my exercise record." And the answer is, "no." Which just goes to show that no matter how much you prepare yourself, you won't be ready when the time comes. Or at least, I won't. When the Reaper appears, I am likely to be doing the same thing I am doing when my friends arrive to pick me up to go out: looking for my keys and wallet, and wondering when I am going to create a system so that I can find them without turning the apartment inside out.