I’ve often joked that there’s a huge empty space of time between the mile-marker ages of 30 and 40 in which you have to define yourself without the context of important birthdays. Reaching my mid-thirties I have a handful of goals left for the decade and in discussing it with one of my friends via random text messages this occurred:
me: my biological cock is ticking
friend: you mean clock not cock right?
me: well, yeah, that too