That's the night that the lights went out in

Day one of this work week is progressing nicely: the usual Monday morning all staff Zoom meeting, managerial interaction, preparing a run that changes stuff in a particular system via its API (due to how arduous doing the same in its GUI is), a little lightweight file/directory straightening.

No idea why, but mind suddenly went to being referred to as a “boomer” for just barely making the year-born cutoff, which tends to be stated as 1964.

I think I've whined about this before, but while I don't deny being somewhat privileged due to some economic niceties present at the time and along the way, it's been far more a “running from the crumbling edge of the world” kind of thing relative to what I want to call true boomers.

For example, my wife's oldest sister and her husband? Both are mega-millionaires. And I'd be mega-surprised if, combined, we ever even make it to, oh, say $800,000 in total assets... and I also wouldn't be surprised if I pass well before that might happen.

So I must have told y'all the time I unloaded on them in the outdoor section of a restaurant, after the male looked up to me and said, “Split the bill?”, when those two had spent nearly twice what we did on our orders. I was a bit “lit”, which of course greased the pontification skids fairly significantly.

I want to say I began my sermon with something like, “Listen, boomer...”, which led them to look at us puzzled, reminding us we're technically (i.e. by age) boomers as well... but that only inflamed my insides more, leading me to a lengthy comparison of areas wherein they had things significantly better than us.