Drinks with my cousin

“You know one guy I know said that reducing his hours was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.” My cousin's perched on a bar stool, drinking a vodka tonic. He’s just told me he’s doing an eat to live diet and avoiding beer. He still looks youthful, and no bigger than the last time I saw him. His face is slightly flush with vodka and the power of the pulpit he naturally holds. “He raised his prices, and lost half his clients, but he kept the ones he cared about because they saw him as worth the price. So this guy gained 20 hours a week in free time, didn’t lose any income, and then he had this space where he could do his own shit.”

“Huh.” I say this unconvinced.

He stares at me searchingly for a moment, looking for traces of sarcasm, and stirs his drink agitatedly. “So what I’m saying dumbass is that you should see this period as a chance to do your own shit. Your brother does his shit, he’s there, but I don’t see you doing your shit. There's tons of stuff you could be doing. You could have all sorts of ideas for apps, whatever.” He takes another gulp.

I clear my throat and shift, uncomfortable on my bar stool. “Yeah, well…”

“I mean, how old are you again?”

“Thirty-five.” This I answer definitively. This I know.

He leans back on his stool with a demonstrative exhale and grimace.

“Shit…” he says shaking his head.