The reasons for the myth's persistence continue to fascinate me. Partly it's because people are such poor statisticians. We remember the two or three cases of people we know who prove the myth to be true and disregard the dozens, if not hundreds, of others in our acquaintance who continue steadfastly through the middle decades of life. There's also a fascination and allure to the midlife crisis.
My path away from marital meltdown began in the smoking pile of rubble that was my final workplace implosion. It was 1 a.m. and after months of 18-hour days launching a new show, I exploded: screaming, throwing things and threatening people. In front of a large audience on the production floor of 30 Rock, I bottomed out with a loud, messy splat.
In 2011, a year after turning 50, we quit our jobs, sold our house and gave away most of our possessions to travel around the world for what we thought would be one year. But after learning how to live much more simply we are still on the road three years later, global nomads with no home, no fixed address.
I never heard of a life hack until recently. I thought it was what my Grandpa Henry was doing almost constantly by the age of 80 after he smoked two packs of cigarettes his whole life. Or maybe what our first cat, Brownie, was doing under the bed when she would leave us little fur encrusted gifts. Mmmmmm. Life Hacks.