At this stage of the game

Last week, I hurried through my workout to pick up a friend for lunch at her place of business. When I returned home, I found an email from her. “Thought you’d enjoy that one of the girls in the office said she wished she had a hunk come by and take her out to eat.” I shrugged. This morning, I had my annual physical. After the always-popular digital probe, the doctor informed me, “You have the prostate gland of a 50-year-old.” I never thought I’d see the day when the latter compliment was preferable to the former. But, it’s here.