I was looking at my calendar the other day and I noticed an alarming increase in the number of years I've been alive, just in the last couple of decades. No one else was around, so I asked the coffee table if it could shed any light on this upsetting turn of events. It replied in the voice of late actor Sebastian Cabot, noted for his avuncular turn as the gentleman's gentleman "Mr. French" in the hit show Family Affair as well as his many nature documentary narrations: "I'd love to help you but I am an inanimate object, utterly incapable of thought. I can, however, suggest a couple of books to get you pointed in the right direction, titles on the nature of time and so on, not too terribly technical, for the layman, and you also might want to get a little background on life and the evolution of sentient beings, types of intelligence, that sort of thing, so that in the future you don't go around seeking advice from coffee tables or potted geraniums or bulky burlap sacks of soybeans. Having said that, if you're unhappy with your purchase I can also supply you with IKEA's customer service telephone number. You might consider the sleek and affordable EKSJÖ coffee table, or the FARSHULT, which is solid pine and offers a more rustic appeal. I should warn you, however, that neither model, though handsome and priced to move, is any more capable of thought or expression than I am. Did you save your receipt by any chance?"

I looked again at the calendar. Twenty years seems to have gone by in what feels like, I don't know, somewhere between several and many years, give or take. How did that happen?