After describing the dilemma I've endured for almost half a century, I hope anyone who has faced something like it will share their story with me. It will help to know I'm not alone whining about this.
I was born on November 23, 1949, my wife on June 11, 1954. Over our forty-three plus years together, any time age comes up, my wife invariably says I'm five years older. Call me over-sensitive if you must, but even during the five plus months from June 12 until November 22, somehow I remain five years older than her. I'm so accustomed to this mathematical sleight of hand that when she last made her bogus claim in early August, I stopped and did the math. Her chicanery aside, facts are facts. Until November 22, I am seventy-one and she is sixty-seven. Dear reader: Please reassure me after doing the simple subtraction.
If just once I could be four and a half years older or, if my wife accurately stated that subtracting her birth year from mine equals five, perhaps my fragile ego could be temporarily mollified. But I ask you: How much distorted arithmetic must one man endure?