Four, oh.

I’ve never been too fussy about age. I haven’t consistently seen that assigning numbers to people has ever led to very consistent results. So, as my 40th looms, I’ve invested far more time in planning a small celebration than considering the significance of creeping “over the hill” as the merchandise at the local party goods store likes to put it.

Then I nearly slipped and fell getting into the shower.

I tried to convince myself it was the bathroom’s fault for being outdated, but the mishap forced me to take a fresh look at my elderly future. Standing there completely naked with a slightly stubbed toe stirred up distant memories of my grandparents’ bathrooms—where the floors of their tubs were lined with small, flower-shaped traction stickers. As a kid, their purpose was a mystery. I thought they were there for decoration, or possibly to cover up a rust spot in the cast iron. But today, more than ever before, I know exactly what they were meant to do. And I may need a set for my birthday.