How To Know When You’re Getting Old

 

Everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work.

The gleam in your eye is from the sun hitting your glasses.

You feel like the night before, and you haven’t even been anywhere.

Your little black book contains only names ending in M.D.

You get winded playing chess.

Your children begin to look middle-aged.

You finally reach the top of the ladder, and find it leaning against the wrong wall.

You join a health club, and don’t go.

You decide to procrastinate, but never get around to it.

Your mind makes contracts that your body can’t keep.

You know all the answers, but nobody asks you the questions.

You look forward to a dull evening.

You walk with your head held high, trying to get used to your new trifocals.

Your favorite part of the newspaper is, “25 Years Ago Today.”

You sit in a rocking chair, and can’t get it going.

Your knees buckle, but your belt won’t.

You stop looking forward to your next birthday.

Dialing long distance wears you out.

You just can’t stand people who are intolerant.

The best part of your day is over when the alarm goes off.

You burn the midnight oil after 9 P.M.

Your back goes out more often than you do.

A fortune teller offers to read your face.

The little grey-haired old lady you help across the street, is your wife.

You get your exercise acting as pallbearer for your friends who exercise.

You sink your teeth into a steak, and they stay there.

 

I was going to post this earlier, but I needed to take a nap.

I’m happy to note that all of these do not apply to me – only 22 of the 26.  I don’t get winded playing chess, because with my (lack of) memory, I can’t play chess.  I get winded playing checkers.  It’s all that heavy lifting of one checker onto another when I get a King.  What??!  Could happen!

I put white stickers on the bottoms of all the checkers that just say “King.” Well….the son did it for me while I was having my nap.  I just get my opponent to flip them over for me.

After the wrestling match with my optic nerves last year, I had my eyeballs retreaded.  I can still make do with bifocals. It’ll be a few more years before they have to ride a trike.

I didn’t become intolerant as I aged.  I’ve been calling a spade an asshole since I could first spell the word.

And lastly, since I never have anywhere to go early in the morning except some difficult-to-schedule doctor, I usually roll out of bed at the crack of noon, and the wife and I party hearty till 4 AM – with cinnamon rolls and tea.  Some evenings when we’re feeling particularly daring, we have two cups.  The excitement just never stops starts.