Your 37th birthday is something of a unique event. You're that much closer to 40, which just realigns your target to worry about 50. You're way past your 20s, so day-to-day craziness is imitating a logarithmic curve approaching but, you insist, never reaching zero.
Two things so far have made today unique amongst birthdays. Well, three, but the first was cool: our eldest made me a great birthday card and had chosen what he wanted to give me for my birthday. He's definitely growing up.
Another part of the feeling of truly living your age: I finally went into our local insurance broker and set up life insurance. I've been meaning to do it for a while now (since the birth of our first son, in fact), but seemed to never actually make the effort. At long last, I'm accepting some reality and making sure my wife and kids are suitably taken care of should I be suddenly attacked by rabid squirrels while walking down the street.
Then there's the discovery this morning that human intelligence is really a system of random selection. My mother doesn't live in Ireland, so she ordered my gift from someone in Cork and had it sent to me through the post. In it was a nice card:
Some delightfully smart boy took her instructions literally.
Oh dear heavens.