I go in for my preoperative screening.

I am having surgery next Friday for a variety of things — nothing life-threatening, all minor in and of themselves, but doing them all at once. This will likely impede my mobility for a bit. I’m figuring on three weeks out of work.

I haven’t mentioned this much, I know, mostly because it’s really not that big a deal; all routine stuff. The one thing I do think about is that while these procedures are not major, some of them are related to age and wear and tear.

I know I sometimes seem to be a bit obsessed with my age in comparison to those in the scene around me, but if truth be told, it has more to do with fascination than any real fear or upset. The changes in how I view people, how I view myself, how people view me, etc., are really something to watch.

People say that age is just a number. I don’t feel “old” most of the time, though I do feel “older;” but the body tells you otherwise now and then. Tells you, “not forever, buddy; here’s a twinge to remind you of that…”

At any rate — all this by way of saying I won’t be around much tomorrow.

with the word “crumble.”

I see it everywhere — in my soup, my pants, my Palm Pilot, my love.

I am willing to say it if not entirely willing to witness or endure it.

There are more accurate words to describe this mood, but none sound better.

Still, the crumble that can be told is not the true crumble.

I will use the word, with its hard beginning and swallowed end, until a better one comes along.