They say the number 42 is the answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. So as I celebrate my 42nd birthday, I wonder if the next 364 days work their magic and fulfill their promise. Unfortunately, my obligatory research on how Douglas Adam chose the number has already burst my bubble:

It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one. Binary representations, base thirteen, Tibetan monks are all complete nonsense. I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought ‘42 will do.’ I typed it out. End of story.

So much for the pandemic ending soon.