A guy’s mind tends to wander when he’s lying around tired, coughing and being miserable trying to get over a cold. (Maybe non-guys have the same experience, but that’s just an educated guess.)
In my case, after hanging around software engineers for years on end, I started wondering if version numbers might be usefully applied to anything other than software and apps and other inanimate things.
Vegetables, frozen pizzas, woodworking tools? Maybe not.
Bourbon, beer, wine? I can see that.
Their sour v2.1.8 was excellent. What the hell happened?
How about people? I can see that, too.
Let’s say your early years were v1.1 to v1.n – covering your Iowa childhood through high school. Maybe v2.* encompassed college follies interrupted by active duty and back to school for a degree and starting your first newspaper job.
The next major upgrade – v3.1 et seq. – might have been, oh, from your wedding day through raising children, working some more and some more and some more until the kids left you behind.
Then imagine that v4.* covered a complete change of scenery and new careers for both you and your better half.
You get the idea. It could happen like that.
Carry on, my friends.
B.J. v5.1
The Smith Compound 