Age Happens Tomorrow

Tomorrow I become old, entering the halcyon days of my 6th decade on this planet¹.
Mrs Stevie has agreed to give me a McNally Strumstick, a three-stringed thing that looks like a cross between a dulcimer and a balilika that went through the wash in a pants pocket. This despite the fact that having owned a guitar since my 50th birthday I have yet to persuade it to produce music in any way, shape or form²
I haven't been this excited since I asked for a train set for Christmas when I was two and a half and reportedly made myself so ill worrying about it the parents seriously considered holding Christmas early that year.

1. I just deleted the scathing rant on how so-called scientists had failed to deliver on any of the promise of my single-digit years on account of it being too bleeping depressing↑
2. I recently discovered a firm that makes nylon strings with steel string terminators on them so I restrung the beast. I can now report that I can play for longer³ and can make "F" with a barre⁴, albeit slowly. I've even managed a passable "C". Accordingly, I have hopes of producing an actual tune before the decade is out↑
3. In spite of the begging of family that I cease and desist↑
4. Which means I can make "G" the same way↑