I experienced many crushing disappointments growing up. A trespassing fairy with a tooth fetish didn't leave a dime under my pillow? Ernie and Bert aren't brothers? Affordable healthcare isn't a right? But the worst was realizing I was too old to be a prodigy. There's an age limit, apparently, or maybe it's height or weight. Regardless, I didn't qualify.
It wasn't expected. He just up and died. One day he was happily walking the Earth with the rest of us, the next he was gone. I barely knew him and don't know the back-story, just that it happened at home, where he lived alone, and that he left an accordion. I know that because it's mine now.
If you're weary of pursuing constant improvement and innovation in long-term care, take inspiration from Burger King.
My initial plan was to get up early to write this column. Refreshed and invigorated by a good night's sleep, I would leap out of bed with synapses alert and firing, and my inspired mind would cut through the task at hand like a freshly sharpened chain saw. And this time I would do it alone. Without coffee. Just to prove I could.
They say confession is good for the soul, so here goes. I'm having an affair — with my smartphone. What started with a few innocent conversations and some harmless texting quickly became an obsession, and the two of us now sleep together every night. I finally admitted this to my wife, but she says she already knew.