Like everyone else who makes the mistake of getting older, I begin each day with coffee and obituaries.

The line uses wry, self-deprecating humor to frame aging as an “error” one can’t avoid, then pairs two morning rituals—coffee and reading obituaries—to capture how daily life subtly shifts with age. Coffee suggests routine and comfort; obituaries suggest heightened awareness of mortality and the narrowing of one’s cohort. The joke works by treating a grim practice as ordinary, implying that older adults often start the day taking stock of who is gone and, by contrast, who is still here. It’s a compact meditation on time, survival, and the way humor can domesticate existential anxiety.