The balance of this essay concerns age. Here is how I feel when waking up in the morning. I don't know anything but am pretty sure I am a mammal, don't think about who is president or whether he or she has organized thoughts --what? 2 hours?-- ahead of me (consult a globe). I look at the highboy in the bedroom corner. What is a highboy? It's a chest of drawers that was called that when I was a a kid. I lay there and think: "Drawer spelled backward is Reward." But yes! Socks!
It has knobs. Knob spelled backward is Bonk! This bonks me back in time 10 years, when I had some surgery during which I unfortunately woke up. My skeleton got so scared it climbed out the incision and ran off down the road. It was apprehended a half-mile away trying hitchhike on the interstate. Good thing too.
By and by, I wake to my world --as it is now, and as I am. There is a region of agreement where I align my delirium to that of modern society. I feel compassion for my fellow humans, and for myself. Have you ever noticed how hard it is, after all the work you've done --after all the unkindnesses you've done to yourself to reach your goals of family, security, politics etc.-- to confer a little kindness on yourself? But yes, me too!