Eight days and counting down

On December 24 at eleven minutes before midnight I will turn 67 years old or perhaps I should say 67 years young. I'm not sure whether I'm dreading or looking forward to this birthday. My life hasn't changed much in the past twelve months. I'm still living in the house I shared with my mother. I'm still worried about paying the power bill, the water bill, etc. I'm still a Baha'i and I'm still writing, which are the only two things that keep me sane.

I finished and won NaNoWriMo in November by writing 54,658 word novel called Midnight in Suburbia. This year, despite the fact that I don't celebrate Christmas, I've written several Christmas themed poems and put them in my writing.com portfolio. I think those are the only two things  that are different, but I could be wrong because I'm a bit depressed this afternoon.

I'm not sure why I'm depressed. It could be my upcoming birthday. It could be the outrageous power bill. It could be that I feel stuck, as if I'm in a rut that I can't get out of. It could be my health, which is somewhat worse then last year. I'll know more about my health after I've seen the specialist next year. My depression could be caused by almost anything.

Eight days
and counting down
to another birthday:
Do I need a night
on the town?