I am sorry for all the times I said no. And I don’t mean to sex. I’m happy for all the times I said no to sex, because it was probably not nearly enough times. But I’m sorry for all the things I said no to, like the times people said, “Come with me to the movies,” and I was like, “No, I’m tired.” I’m sorry for all the times I was tired and just didn’t do something. I’m sorry for all the times I was cranky, because I should have gone out. I missed a movie; I missed going to a very good museum exhibit. I’m sorry for everything I said no to. I’m sorry for trips I said no to, because as you get older, fewer things come up. They just do. Life becomes more boring in general. And it’s too bad. You should just do everything you can do. I’m sorry for all the things I haven’t done; I should have done everything. I should have done all the things that were a dumb idea, that would have compromised my dignity—which is not so important. That would have been, you know, just fun. But mostly I can’t complain, because I said yes to most things. I am not somebody who spent a lot of time avoiding things. And I think that’s better.