As one interested in math, there is an explanation as to why time seems to go by faster the older one gets. Imagine you are 10 years old again (or maybe you are ten years old reading this). The year just passing is about a tenth of your life so far so it's a pretty big deal in terms of the big picture. It's about a tenth of your life, so far. For those of us in our sixties, the year through which we are speeding headling is but a fleeting sixtieth of our life, so far. This sixtieth year (actually sixty-sixth for me) is crowded into one's memory along with all the memories and activities from all the other years; it doesn't take up much space, or time, relatively sepaking.
So, there are days when no matter what you do, one's age seems to be a part of the action. I had to change one of my five thousand passwords this week and I'm counting the number of times it takes me to remember to use the new one when I log in. I haven't forgotten the new one, just the fact that I have to use it. It's probably the same thing they say about forgetting where you left your keys. The time to really worry is when you forget what your keys are for. Luckily, I have yet to forget what my password is for.
It looks like there's a wonderful choice of walking sticks these days if and when I should ever need one.