Yeah, the wind usually comes out that side, if I bend over a little, or pull on a heavy door... geriatricity, you know I love it.
For perhaps some reason, this Crosby Stills Nash sailing song is on my mind.
“80 feet of waterline, nicely making way”
Part of that Irish blessing I never understood: May the road rise to meet you.
Sounds like, may you always walk uphill.
No comprehende, senior.