On the way out to the zendo yesterday, I noted once more what I have noted more frequently of late: How it pisses me off that the red zendo shingles, originally tacked down with a good deal of sweat, are now crumbling with the passage of time.
The shingles had promised a "30-year" life span and here they are crumbling like mange on a dog's ass after 14. Harrumph!
Of course just because some blithe actuary asserts that "people are living longer" and offers the statistical evidence to prove it does not mean a longer life will be equally spiffy-looking or full of pep from beginning to end.
The shingles may be there, but their beauty and utilitarian value will diminish. The actuary's job is to assert WHAT is, not HOW it is. Others may interpret the actuarial facts as they see fit. The actuary gets paid either way -- to gather and collate, not to assess and find meaning. If people want to assert that a longer life is somehow a better life, it's no skin off his butt.
Well, the zendo isn't leaking yet and I think what pisses me off is partly the notion that what I once laid down without too much difficulty is now beyond my capacities. Someone's going to have to do again what I once did.
Facts are facts, but I am not always graceful about or grateful for their imperious insistence.
Tant pis pour moi.
Tant mieux pour moi.