It started seven years from now. Or it will start… Or… Oh, hell. I hate discussing my past when part of my past is your or someone else’s future.

I’m a child of the 80’s (which, with ever-present Flock Of Seagulls hair-do, makes me stand out no matter where… er… when I go), but I’m well over 90. Something about the time shifting keeps me from aging, though. In fact, every shift makes me a little younger. I’m terrified of having to go through puberty backwards. It was horrific enough the first time.

The most frustrating thing is that I never know when I’ll find myself in another time. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to walk into a public restroom in 1993 Japan, only to walk out and find yourself in the main house on a cotton plantation during the US Civil War? On the plus side, the lovely young woman there was very… helpful. (Her father not being home helped, too.)

I do have to wonder something, though. Thanks to her, what are the odds I’m my own great-grandfather?