This morning I had an office flashback. I guess I was tired. I didn't sleep well last night. The temperature hit 90 degrees yesterday -- in April, in the Northeast!

Mary was on the phone, speaking to a receptionist at some company or other in pursuit of information for an article she's writing. Suddenly I pictured what was at the other end of the line. A corporate office.

Then I was back there again. In my old office. I recognized it by the sinking feeling in my stomach, the constriction in my chest, sensations I recall far more clearly than desks and computer terminals.

Luckily the flashback lasted only a moment. I don't have many these days, after fifteen years of being out of all that. Only rarely do I dream of having returned.

For years I worried about the freelance work running out, of being forced to find some regular job, some office or other. It wouldn't be any different. Meet the new office, same as the old office.

Now that I'm 59 I'm not so worried. Before long I'll be able to just scrap by on Social Security if I need to. I don't like getting older but it has its uses. At some point, as regards some things, you reach an age where you can say "never again."