Twenty Seventh

Today is our 27th anniversary. That’s a big number when you’re talking about marriage. It’s also the year rockstars tend to die. So hopefully, that’s just a coincidence.

There’s a list a list of gifts you’re supposed to give based on your anniversary. It’s not too specific. They just suggest what material it should be made of. First is paper, 25th is silver, and 50th is gold. Other years are copper, candy, wood, aluminum, china, bronze and so on. It reads like a list of acceptable items for the recycling bin.

There’s a gift for every year until you get to 25. After that, it goes by fives. I guess that makes after accumulating 25 years of crap, and very few people stop caring how long you’ve been married after so many years. It’s kind of like running a marathon. If you can run one, everyone assumes you can 2 or 200.

I’m fine putting things on pause after 25 years accumulating a bunch of stuff. But it might make sense to add 26th to the list and for that anniversary give the gift of storage.

On other notes. Last night, I went out with my son who just came back from spending a month living in an AirBnb he rented in the city. He loved the experience and has a whole new outlook on the place. I’m glad, because I love San Francisco. The people who bitch the most about that city, seem to be the ones who’ve done the most to ruin it.

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