As a young man, it seemed I could get away with anything with absolute impunity. I could clean my plate at Grandma’s house, after a Thanksgiving feast, and still have room to singlehandedly devour an entire pie. Back in college, my friends and I could order several large pizzas and an entire pitcher of beer, and I’d match my cohort’s mug for mug and leave the table with practically no assistance. Back in elementary school, my buddies would consistently do detention for slipping a rubber snake in the teacher’s desk or inadvertently penning an answer to their wrist prior to a test, or the slightest infringement of acceptable scholastic behavior, and I could disturb the entire class with antics that would disrupt the senate, and almost inevitably wink at the teacher and come away unscathed. I seemed the exception to almost every rule. Sadly it seems the test of time has expunged my exemption. These days a sliver of mincemeat pie can bring on Narcolepsy, and my very best efforts at marital bliss entirely discombobulate the Misses. It’s as though she’s entirely immune to my boyish charm.  SC