IF I WAS REALLY SUPER, I’D BE ABLE TO ADD
I’m lying in the big chair, hand on chin, thinking. Anders is typing away at something in the computer room. I suddenly think, “Good lord, it’s the first of August. I have a birthday coming up soon.” Then I make my brain hurt with trying to remember how old I actually am, which birthday is this, how old will I be in 10 days? The answer I come up with doesn’t seem to be right. I count in my head from the last big one, adding for each year since then: one, two, three? Is that right? Three? “Anders,” I...