Many a curmudgeon can remember turning 38. Waist size, that is.
Given the nature of the membership of the Curmudgeon Societé Generale, there is no shortage of those of us who are 38 or over. Something changes when one turns 38 - you no longer need to "drop a few (pounds)" - you need to drop a LOT. Stairs become the enemy in a much more visceral way. You realize you are much happier you bought the motorized recliner rather than the mechanical one.
And in that pleased state, one would sooner queue up a Matlock rerun than actually go outside and exercise.
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