Me.
Today.
So it's official: I'm no longer middle-aged. I'm now on the last leg of my threescore years and ten. And if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow. Which raises the question of what to do with them.
Dedicate myself to good works for the benefit of humanity.
Sit on the sofa watching TV with a big box of pork rinds, living life to its fullest, as per Homer J. Simpson.
Sneak the equivalent of 36 big barrels of gunpowder into the Westminster cellars and raze the edifice of corruption to the ground.
Get my ears pierced.
I might do that last one there.
