22 mars 2005

Ca ne nous rajeunit pas...

That's it. I'm old. And I don't want it to be known.
We were comparing scars with friends. Not, I hasten to say, in a Lethal Weapon 3 sort of way, but rather in a Freddy Kruger fashion, as it had all to do with burn marks.
I have a few scars on my hands, if you really must know. One from a nasty cut (no fingerprint on one of my fingers, eh eh, because I once tried to do a McGyver), some from burns, one from slamming a car door on my hand (which is quickly fading to nothing, I'm sad to report). And I was trying to figure out when I had burnt my left index when I went "OK, how old am I?" And stopped dead.
I'm this: young at heart. Nobody is allowed to say my age out loud from now on. Lest they be severely punished.