Day of the World Course, 33rd of Autumn, 526 M.E. (Aldebaran): Each of the six seasons in the New Revised Universal Calendar has a five-day stretch of sequentially named days, e.g., "Day of the x," "Second Day of the x," and so on to the Fifth Day. Autumn has the five Days of the World Course, and today is the first.

I finally scored my drugs, the pharmaceuticals my doctor prescribed for my breaking heart. The pharmacy texted me around 6:30 last night, an hour or so after the previous post here, that they were had finally arrived. To be fair, the script wasn't placed until mid Thursday morning, and although the pharmacy was out of stock when the order arrived, they had them to me by early Friday evening.

For years, I prided myself on not being on any prescription drugs, which from talking to friends and family is highly unusual for an American of my age. But now my medicine cabinet is crowded with four different prescriptions, plus daily over-the-counter aspirin and a B-12 supplement my doctor advised before the issues with my heart came up. I have to gobble down four pills in the morning plus an eyedropper full of the B-12, which almost constitutes a breakfast in and of itself. I have to take the sixth med, Crestor, in the evening, so I keep it right next to my toothbrush to remind me to take my final med as I brush my teeth at night. My mnemonic mantra is "Crest and Crestor."

Funny thing about the aspirin - I didn't have to wait until my medicines arrived at the pharmacy to start with a daily aspirin, as I've long had a handy bottle at home for those unexpected headaches and other aches and pains, But I got to wondering just exactly how long it was that I had that handy bottle and checked the expiration date. Sure enough, the date had expired . . . in 2013. Thirteen-year-old aspirin, which had surely decomposed to acetic and salicylic acid by now.

That's part of the problem with getting old. In addition to failing organs and forgetfulness, which is just another symptom of another organ failing, time rushes by faster and faster until you lose all track of it. Then, before you know it, the aspirin that you suspect might be "kind of old" turns out to have expired during the first year of Obama's second term.

Impermanence is swift.