Hey you. What are you up to?

The Good Lady came to stand with me at the window where I stood, staring at the slight double reflection of myself ghosting on the surface of the darkness beyond.

It was darker than the soul of a Steemit blogger outside.
_{^{*and that my friends is a very dark thing indeed}}

Gently, I huffed out a breath I did not know I had been holding in.

Getting old is shit.

I muttered grumpily.

Oh behave yourself. You are still a young filly!

The Good Lady slapped my rump as if I were a horse that she had just rode in on.

Aye aye, but I am on the cusp. On the fucking cusp.

I continued to stare out at the darkness. Somewhere in that murk were my hopes and dreams. Or maybe not because my hopes and dreams would have been burning in a big blazing bonfire and I am sure I might have noticed that towering brightness in the night.

On the cusp of what you mad arse?

She wormed a hand into the back pocket of my jeans as if she were a particularly shit pickpocket and proceeded to hang off of my arse like an unwanted pile.

Getting fucking old. Old as fuck. Old as sin. As old as a mad old bastard with a grey beard's balls.

I jerked my bum sideways to try and loosen her hand which was squirming about in my pocket like a tapeworm laying eggs. Her hand refused to be jostled.

She rested her head on my shoulder.

Oh dear. Is this because it's your birthday at the weekend? Have you got the birthday blues?

She pushed her head against my chin in that annoying way that dogs with big heavy heads do when they smell your janglies and feel the urge to try and push them inside you with their nose.
_{^{You know, I like to think of myself as quite a clean bloke but one of my friends has a dog that literally will not leave my happy sacks alone. I spend the entire time I am in his house pushing the fucking beast away from my knackers and trust me, I don't push many beasts away from those delights.}}

I don't have the birthday blues.

I tried not to sound sulky but had my tone been any sulkier I would have been digging out a cat-piss-coloured shirt and duetting with Tammy Wynette.

Aw, you totally do, you big daftie! It's only another year, come on!

She shook the hand which was still in my pocket, rocking my hips back and forth as if I were dancing in a Tarantino movie.

I know, I'm fine. It's all fine. It will be fine.

My lower jaw jutted out like someone with no arms digging their way out of prison.

Think of all the good stuff. The kids, the house we have... even little old me!

She forcibly spun me around to face her and smiled before planting a big kiss on my lips.

I thought about the things she had mentioned. It did cheer me up a bit. I mean, I had a roof over my head, and two potential income streams from my kids if I had to sell them to the New World Order if times got hard.

Then there was the Good Lady herself.

Maybe things weren't that bad.

It is only a number. Even if it starts with a fucking five.