43

In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, if the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything is 42, then what about 43?

The supercomputer in the book points out that the answer seems meaningless because the beings who instructed it never knew what the question was, and itself was unable to produce the question.

Jokes aside, I think perhaps turning age 43 is about finding the question. Not that I knew the answer when I was 42. Far from it. And if I knew any answers last year, they are probably as meaningless as the answer “42”, because everything changed.

So yes, I’m turning 43 today.

I have no pithy wisdom to share.
No 43 things about turning 43.
No lessons I wished someone told me about turning 43.
… thankfully.

43 is a number.
It’s meaningful but also arbitrary.
It matters, it also doesn’t matter.

And birthday wish?
All I want is more sleep.
That’s how it is for sleep deprived parents.

And intentions for the new birth year ahead?
I’m just gonna be that dumb idiot who doesn’t have a plan but is happy, than (try to be) the smart-ass genius who has the best plan but is unhappy.

Onwards!