I'm getting old. Actually, I became old quite some time ago; my condition has just worsened with age.
I'm walking down the street. I spy an awning overhanging the sidewalk a couple of blocks ahead. "Jazz", it says. "Hmmm." I think. (A rather profound thought for my progressively enfeebled mind.) "Could it be a nightclub? A record store? Perhaps just a 'jazz' dance studio?" I've got a couple of blocks to contemplate the possibilities.
By the time I get within fifty (or was it fifteen?) feet, it's become clear that the "Jazz" is actually "1422", the street address.
So, should I blame my failing eyesight? Can I claim that I have the word "jazz" so deeply burned into my cognitive memory that it tends to swamp optical input? Does this make me an optimist?
Give it to me straight, Doc.
For now, I've adopted 1422 as my code word for...